The Spaces Between Notes
by LyricalKris
Summary: She was over twenty years his junior and had him pegged before she ever knew him. He definitely wasn't the sex-crazed rocker her father warned her about. Music speaks to many, but really knowing a person is listening to the space between notes.
1. Chapter 1

**Dedication: This was conceived by and written for jessypt. Babette, I'm so glad I was having trouble with Notes on the Fridge and needed someone to help me brainstorm. You are an unexpected treasure, and you better understand I love you.**

**I mean... Carlisle and Bella is just inherently wrong.**

**Wrong, wrong, wrong wrong.**

**A/N: But for that, I hope you all enjoy the journey. Just remember that this is jessypt's baby so any complaints can be made directly to her. Humph.**

**Disclaimer: Uh. I will never be able to look Stephenie Meyer in the eye knowing I've written this about Carlisle and Bella. This makes me NOT Stephenie Meyer.**

* * *

Of course there was a cost to being an artist.

The problem with art - writing, drawing, painting, music - was that it laid a piece of the soul bare for all to see. There was always the risk of losing that piece. Or perhaps worse, there was always the risk of that little bit of soul getting warped, turning into something it wasn't before.

In the twenty-two years Carlisle Cullen had been a successful singer/songwriter, he'd certainly misplaced bits and pieces of himself.

There was one piece of his soul he'd never get back, one piece that ached more than anything. One piece. One regret. One life lost.

Once upon a time, Carlisle would have spent the hours before a concert trolling the local bars. The venues he played were always surrounded by little bars, pubs, and women - hell women _and_ men - who were dazzled by the allure of a real rockstar. Now he preferred holing himself up in his hotel room with his guitar, plucking out notes and thinking about the people, the times who'd inspired them.

_**~0~**_

"Absolutely not."

Bella Swan stared at the ceiling, biting her tongue. To the best of her knowledge, she'd never thrown the epic tantrums teens were supposed to be known for. Surely she was allowed just one.

"It's a school night, Bella."

"I'll be tired, but I'll go to school. Anyway, I haven't missed a day this semester. What's one day?" Bella argued. "Shouldn't you be thrilled at this? You went to see Carlisle Cullen when you were eighteen, and here I am, your eighteen year old daughter, and I love his music."

"I never liked his music," Charlie grumbled. "It was your mother. Your mother was nuts for him. I just went because I knew if I didn't, if she had a chance she'd run off with him." He shook his head, looking at her. "Anyway, that's exactly why I don't want you to go. I know what his concerts are like, and it's too dangerous. He's trouble. Those concerts are trouble."

Charlie would not be swayed.

Bella was bummed all through school that day. As much as possible, she kept her earbuds in.

The thing about Carlisle Cullen's music was the utter honesty. There was a raw quality to his lyrics - like he saw the good and the bad of people, of love itself. There was no beauty without ugliness; demanding the light without accepting the dark was pure ignorance.

Bella agreed with the message she heard between lines: Taking the good with the bad, digging deeper than the shallow mask people wore, was the right way to find treasure.

The more she listened, the more her resentment grew. She wanted to hear his voice with her own ears without the medium of speakers. She wanted to see his face as he sang about these things - love, life, and loss.

As she trudged to her truck after school, her feet heavy with disappointment, a song from his first album came on the shuffle.

When he was young - her age - he used to sing about freedom. He'd grown out of that, she observed. Maybe he'd grown up.

But his more recent songs often mused about having to travel the indignant roads of young adulthood to arrive at maturity.

And Bella had never rebelled before.

She was eighteen - an adult. Her father could say no, but, ultimately, he couldn't stop her.

Bella turned her truck toward Seattle, toward freedom... and Carlisle Cullen .

_**~0~**_

There was a time when this scene was different for Carlisle.

Some things were the same. There was the emotion in the room, the incredible high of a venue-full of people connecting with his voice, the notes he played, the words he sang. Their voices raised with his - his words echoing through the space. That vibe was incredible, an intense emotion that couldn't be named or replicated. When he left the stage, his heart still pumped fast with adrenaline.

But rather than returning to the prep room to the adoring, typically female, fans he'd let in before the show, he nodded to his manager and slipped in the little room alone. Almost before his ass was down on the sofa, his fingers were in his hair, slipping under the edge of the dark-haired wig he wore. He held the hairpiece away from him, contemplating it with wry amusement.

When he was eighteen years old, the decision had only seemed obvious. The last thing he wanted was to be a blond pretty boy - not exactly the bad boy image he'd been so fond of back then - so he'd dyed his hair jet black.

Jet black hair, smudged guyliner, tattoos on his arms always on display with the sleeveless shirts he wore, when he wore shirts at all. He'd kept the look over the years, more as a nostalgic nod to his hardcore fans than anything else. But now as he took off the wig and wiped away the makeup, he was comfortable with the man in the mirror. His blond hair was streaked at his temples with fine silver here and there. The bags under his eyes made it seem like he'd left some of the black smudges of eyeshadow and there were the telltale wrinkles of a life well lived at his brow and the corners of his mouth.

Once upon a time, he might have left the venue with a pretty little thing under his arm.

He thought, as he always did at times like these, of Esme and the chance he lost when he lost her.

He left the club alone, signing a few autographs for the fans who'd waiting for him in the backlot. Getting in his rental, he tapped on the steering wheel restlessly, not quite ready to go back to the hotel. His memories of what little time he got with the love of his life were right on the surface of his mind tonight, and if he returned to the silence of his room now, he would be consumed.

Stopping again, he waved the bouncer over. "Do you know of an all night diner nearby?"

_**~0~**_

_So close and yet so far._

Bella kicked the tire of her ancient truck, bouncing around a little to try to get her blood flowing. It was cold. It was cold because it was Seattle; it was sheeting rain. And her truck was dead.

This was possibly the worst night of her life.

First, she had driven all this way. The drive to Seattle was horrendously long, especially in her ancient truck. She'd narrowly avoided hitting a deer that scared her half to death, forcing her off the road. It had taken precious minutes away from her Carlisle time, and she'd had to get her truck out of the mud.

She should have known then her trip was doomed. Whether it was because she'd gotten mud someplace the truck couldn't take it or for some other reason entirely, about five miles from the club, she broke down. The truck was completely dead.

Still determined, Bella hopped on a bus, making it to the venue when Carlisle was only one song into his set.

She was bouncing with excitement, already blissing out to the muffled sound of his rich, passionate voice. She presented her ticket and driver's license to the doorman.

"Sorry, kid," the man said, handing her license back. "Come back in three years."

In all her planning, she'd neglected to notice the club was a 21+ only venue. It was even on her ticket, as the bouncer helpfully pointed out.

She'd lingered outside the club, trying to discern the song by the tone alone. When it proved too frustrating to be so close, _so_close, Bella finally gave up and started walking back in the direction of her truck.

Giving in to the inevitable, she called her dad for help. He answered the phone already yelling. Indignant at being treated like a child that didn't deserve even a single measure of respect, Bella ended up yelling back rather than telling him what had happened. She told her father in no uncertain terms she was an adult and he'd better not even think about coming to Seattle to get her. Then, she hung up.

And then she got lost.

It was well past midnight when she finally got back to her cold, dead truck. She didn't have enough money in her bank account for a hotel room, so she resigned herself to keep walking until she found an all night diner.

A car with dark windows slowed down beside her. Bella felt the ice cold finger of fear go straight down her spine. Of course. This would be perfect. This would be fitting. She began to walk faster, frightened and furious at herself. There was no one else on this street. The bright lights a of a larger street loomed too far ahead.

She was going to be kidnapped and murdered and who knew what else, and she hadn't even gotten to hear Carl-

"Excuse me?"

There was something about the man's voice that made Bella turn her head automatically even though every sense she had was screaming for her to run.

She blinked.

She stared.

"Was that your truck a block back? Did you run out of gas?" the man asked kindly.

He had beautiful blue eyes.

The same shade of blue she'd stared at from the cassette tapes and CD's of her mother's collection.

She stared some more.

His lips quirked, his gentle smile broadening somewhat with the knowing look in his eyes. She was so busted. There was no playing this cool now. She knew he knew she'd recognized him.

"You're soaked," he observed, his voice as rich when he spoke as when he sung. "Why don't you let me take you wherever you're going."

"I was just... I was just trying to find a restaurant. Some place dry and warm," she blurted. Despite the freezing temperature and the pouring rain, her cheeks heated at her ineloquent speech.

But Jesus fucking Christ. She was staring at Carlisle Cullen. He was asking to take her somewhere. In his car.

Perhaps she'd fallen and hit her head at some point, because she was fairly certain this was how fantasies began.

Potentially X-Rated fantasies.

"As it happens, I was on my way to a diner. Since we're going the same way, let me drive you," he invited again. She heard the click of the automatic door unlocking. He tilted his head, his expression only concerned. "Sweetheart, really. I hope you don't find it condescending, but it would make me feel better not leaving you alone on the street in the middle of the night."

Well, who was she to argue with that?

She got in the car.

_**~0~**_

Carlisle tapped his foot restlessly, his eyes skimming straight over the top of the menu in his hand, trained on the bathroom door, waiting for Bella to come out.

It didn't escape him that back in the days of his youth, she was exactly the kind of girl he would have taken back to his hotel room. She was beautiful but not in that overtly sexual way. Her clothes were not revealing in the slightest - just jeans and a long sleeved shirt. And though he knew it wasn't what she was there for, there was a hint of flirtation to her speech. The more they'd spoken, the more Carlisle though she probably didn't realize she was doing it.

"So this is pretty much every fangirl's fantasy," she'd laughed.

If she were some other type of person, she could have pressed, could have assumed. He was a rockstar, and she was a beautiful young girl. The cabin of his car was suddenly very small, too small.

He could tell she was attracted to him, and he would be lying if he said the attraction wasn't mutual.

When they got to the diner, he'd fished through the luggage still in the backseat of his car to find her dry clothes.

She finally emerged from the bathroom looking charmingly bedraggled in his too-big clothes with her hair hanging, damp and loose, past her shoulders. She looked up as he stood, raising his hand so she would see him, and when she smiled, a memory flashed before Carlisle's eyes.

He remembered Esme's laugh on hot afternoon they spent down by a river in Texas. Her hair was dark and wavy when it was wet - just like Bella's. They had the same eyes, he realized. Not the same color - Bella's were warm brown where Esme's had been a deep green - but the look in them: innocent but with an edge of knowledge that belied their obvious youth.

Jesus Christ. It did things to him to see Bella in his clothes; it made his mouth go dry.

He'd barely begun to process rational thought - like the way she had to hold his pants up as she walked to keep them from falling - when she shivered, and he noticed the goosebumps on her arms. Quickly, he took off his leather jacket and draped it over her shoulders. "Better?"

She nodded. "I need... um..." She pressed her lips together, her eyes flitting up to his. Rather than ask for what she needed, she took it. His eyes were wide, his body frozen as she unbuckled his belt and slipping it through the loops. Two years later, and the move would have been pure sex. As it was her expression was furtive, beguilingly innocent.

He wanted to kiss her right then, wanted it more than he'd wanted anything in a long, long time.

She broke their stare, stepping back and looking down. Carlisle felt a little dumbfounded, watching as she fixed the belt around her waist. Her expression, when she looked up again, was pleased. "There. Thanks."

Nodding, Carlisle managed to remember how to sit. He was flustered, more than a little nonplussed because on the one hand, there was a stirring in him he hadn't felt in a long while. He was charmed, smitten with the girl-woman in front of him.

She recognized him - that much was obvious. He'd heard the way she stumbled when she looked up and realized who was offering her a ride. It was intriguing on more than one level.

The first question he'd asked when she got in the car was, "How old are you?"

It spoke volumes about her that she told the truth. Not a lot of eighteen-year-olds even knew he existed.

And despite the fact she was quite obviously a little bit intimidated by him, she was indignant when he offered to stay with her until her dad could come get her.

"I don't want my Daddy's help," she said somewhat scathingly. "He would come and kill you, anyway. Did you know he used to go to your shows?"

"Really?"

She'd nodded. "He was afraid my mother would run away with you."

That had a sobering effect. She was an adult, but only legally. She was smart, but that didn't mean he should...

And as interested as he was, the inherent need to protect something so beautifully pure was strong in him.

So now as he sat across from her, he tried not to think of things he shouldn't, watching as she warmed her fingertips against a cup of hot chocolate, holding her face over the steam.

She'd ordered her chocolate with whipped cream. For some reason, this made him smile.

"I could take you home. I _should_take you home," he murmured after she'd outlined exactly the kind of trouble she was in: dead truck, no money, hours upon hours away from home.

Bella raised an eyebrow. "Forks is five hours away."

"I have nothing better to do," he returned easily. "My next show is in a week. I'm in no rush."

Her lips quirked down at the corners, and she picked up the grilled cheese and tomato sandwich she'd ordered. Her cheeks flushed bright pink. "'I don't need to be bailed out of every mistake. Life's best lessons are meant to be learned the hard way.'"

Carlisle had to laugh. "I was nineteen when I wrote that. Teenagers think they know everything. It's a romantic notion, dealing with every mistake on your own."

"I'm not on my own," she pointed out. For a moment, she chewed thoughtfully. "What's the worst that can happen? I spend a night freezing out in my car, call my friend Jake in the morning, he ditches school to come fix this piece of crap he sold my dad, and I get home so he can try to ground me for the rest of high school."

"You could be murdered on the street," he pointed out.

"You and I could both be crushed to death by a falling tree on the way back to Forks," she shot back.

Again, Carlisle had to laugh, and he looked down at his lap, shaking his head.

_**~0~**_

This was surreal.

She was in Carlisle Cullen's hotel room.

He'd assured her repeatedly he had naught but honorable intentions, and she believed him. He worried about the potential murderer out on the darkened Seattle streets. She, maybe naively, felt like she knew him well enough to understand there was no nefarious purpose he wanted her in his hotel room.

After all, if he'd tried to seduce her, she probably would have been all over that embarrassingly fast. There was no need for games.

He'd left her the bed, of course, insisting on taking the couch in the gathering room of the suite. Rather than say goodnight right away, he'd lingered, at first leaning up against the wall but as they talked, he'd crept closer until he was sitting on the floor with his back against the bed.

Caught up in the dreamlike atmosphere, Bella felt emboldened enough to voice thoughts that were supposed to be secret. "I think I could tell you the story of your life from the lyrics you write."

When he tilted his head back on the bed, staring up at her, she felt breathless. And foolish. She wanted to kiss him. She closed her eyes until the feeling passed, and to distract herself, she picked apart songs.

She guessed his relationship with his father was tumultuous, but he put his mother on a pedestal. She talked about how he loved honestly, and she thought he loved a lot. How often he'd waxed poetic about the beauty, the glory of love.

"What you felt for those girls, those women, was honest. And it was beautiful. But then you fell in love for real. The deep kind. The kind that changes you at the soul level."

His eyes were fathomless as he tilted his head back, staring up at her, lips pressed tight together. The expression on his face all the confirmation she needed.

"When you lost her, your music changed completely."

He blinked slow, and Bella's stomach twisted. "I'm sorry. She died, didn't she? It's terrible... I shouldn't have brought it up."

"How did you know that?" he asked, his voice soft, gentle as always. "No one ever knew about us. Not one paper. Not one magazine."

It was hard to understand the expression on his face. "It's all in the music. You wrote it in there, didn't you? It's... It was gorgeous. I know that's probably horrible to say because I could feel the pain in the words. But there's beauty to pain, isn't there?"

Turning, he pushed onto his knees so their eyes are level.

Abruptly, Bella's stomach was twisting for entirely different reasons. The look in his eyes had shifted. It made her throat made her heart speed.

He cupped her cheek, his fingers caressing.

There was a song. One of her favorites. He sang about just this moment, this perfect moment that was all thrill and anticipation.

Right then, Bella's personal opinion was that there were not enough songs on the subject. Quite a few more were necessary to encapsulate the range of emotions going through her.

But when his lips touched hers, every thought left her mind. It wasn't just that she was kissing Carlisle Cullen - rock star, singer of lyrics that touched her heart and soul. In that breath, they could have been any two people, expressing the connection of a shared moment only they would ever understand.

He held her upper lip between his for a second, and then another. His fingers cupped the back of her neck, pulling, and he tasted her again.

Before she knew it, her fingers were tangled in his hair. Their kisses were still chaste, but they lingered. She lay back, and he followed her, leaning over her. Bella whimpered into his mouth and his kisses were quicker. Harder. Seeking...

And then he gasped and skittered backward a pace, his eyes closed, his mouth still open. "I shouldn't have done that."

Bella's heart gave a painful lurch, and she had to clench her jaw before she reacted emotionally. As much as she wanted to argue, she understood why. She did. Closing her eyes, she huffed once, twice, trying to catch her breath, trying to remember how to speak without talking about the ache in her heart. "'There's no point in pretending. You don't regret kisses, you regret circumstances.'"

She opened her eyes in time to catch his smile. "I don't regret it," he murmured after another handful of breaths.

"I don't either," Bella said truthfully.

This would be one of the great stories of her life.

"Get some sleep," he said with a sigh, lifting himself up off the floor. He lingered a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. Bella bit the inside of her cheek, fighting the almost overwhelming urge to pull him back into bed. He sighed again and reminded her he'd be on the couch if she needed anything. "Good night, Bella."

"Good night," she whispered into the darkness of the room well after he'd left.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you to jessypt and barburella for holding my hand through all this.**

**Three chapters total, friends. And they're already written, so not too long of a wait.**

_**~0~**_

_**"And don't ask me to put words to all the silences I wrote**_

_**Don't ask me to put words to all the spaces between notes"**_

_**- Asking Too Much, Ani DiFranco**_

_**~0~**_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Happy Christmas Eve, friends. I paused all my domestic duties (apparently, the unemployed one gets to cook everything. HUMPH) to post for you.**

* * *

Carlisle plucked at his guitar, trying even now - an hour before he was set to be on stage - to find the song that had been trying to form for a week. He knew it was there. All week long, he wanted to put what he felt into music and lyrics, but his tongue was tied; his ear for the right tune was malfunctioning.

He couldn't stop thinking about Bella, not even long enough to process what he was feeling into a song.

In his younger days, things would have been much different. He might have embarked on a little romance with Bella, and the last seven days would have been charmed. It would have been an idyllic story. They'd have shared kisses out and about in Seattle, or perhaps in Forks after she...

After she got out of school.

There was a sobering thought.

The tune he was playing became heavy with guilt.

Frustrated, he unstrapped his guitar, setting it down. Restless, he ventured out backstage, listening to the opening act for a moment. Finding he was still going a little out of his skin, he headed for the stairs to the private balcony.

He found a space where he could watch the crowd but they couldn't see him as easily.

It wasn't until he saw her that he acknowledged he'd been looking for her all along. After all, Portland was about equidistant from Forks as Seattle.

For a few moments, he lay his head on the edge of the short wall between him and the floor below, just watching.

She was there alone which automatically made his protective instinct flare. He glanced at the people swarmed around her. He saw couples. Groups of girls. Women his age, dressed up like they were... Bella's age.

He quirked his lips, rubbing at his chin.

"Carlisle?"

Carlisle turned as his long time friend and manager joined him. "Alistair," he greeted, looking back out onto the floor.

"What are we looking at?"

Carlisle hesitated, but then he extended one finger, pointing.

"The brunette bopping there alone?" Alistair sounded confused for a minute, but then Carlisle could feel his friend's stare boring holes in the side of his head. "Carlisle... Tell me she isn't the reason you've been a ghost this last week." Another pause. "Is this why you asked if this is an all ages club?"

"I think you know me better than that." Carlisle spoke to the question Alistair hadn't asked. He paused. "Will you bring her back?"

"Carlisle..."

At this, Carlisle finally lifted his head, looking at his friend. Alistair had seen him at his worst. When Carlisle thought he was invincible - riding high on fame, drugs, and the exhilaration of the stage - Alistair kept him safe, from fans... from himself.

Putting on an easy smile, Carlisle clapped his friend on the shoulder. "It's fine, Alistair. I helped her last week is all. Her truck broke down." Alistair only stared. "I know what I'm doing."

Alistair studied him for another long moment before he nodded. "Fine then. Have it your way.

_**~0~**_

Bella was annoyed at first when the man approached her, trying to get her to follow him. He was a little creepy - dirty blond hair and beard combo and a hint of discomfort about him.

He seemed exasperated when she rebuffed his advances. "Bloody hell. I swear to Christ I should make him come out here and get you himself." He shook his head and tried again, taking her arm so she couldn't cringe away from him. Before Bella could react - and she had every intention of shoving her palm right up this guy's nose if he didn't let her go - he whispered in her ear. "Listen to me, sweetheart. I'm trying to get you backstage and not on my account. You understand?"

Bella froze, her eyes darting up to the stranger's.

"Oh, interested now, aren't you?" The man laughed and jerked his head. "Come on then, follow me."

"I'm sorry about before," Bella said when they were away from the crowd.

The stranger laughed. "Frankly, dearie, it's a little refreshing. Most girls your age have no sense of self preservation." He gave her a knowing look. "But I'm not as pretty as he is. This I know."

Bella was suddenly glad of the dim light because she was sure she was blushing scarlet. Before she could speak though, she heard her name being called by a soft voice.

She couldn't help her smile when she turned and saw him there. Her breath caught. This was not the kind hearted stranger offering her a ride in the middle of the night. He wasn't the man who'd sat across from her - a little tired as he bought her dinner and a warm drink. He wasn't the man kneeling by the side of her bed, his eyes wide and vulnerable before he took her face in his hands.

The man standing before her now was a rockstar. He was devastatingly handsome, and though he was standing still now, she knew just by looking at him he could swagger. He could command the stage with a smile and a tilt of his chin. Suddenly, Bella felt more than a little intimidated.

He ducked his head, a small, familiar smile playing at his lips.

She swallowed hard, reminding herself he was, after all, just a man. "Nice mascara."

Carlisle laughed. His friend straight out guffawed. "I'm glad you're here."

He had precious little time, but he showed her around the backstage. There were a lot of others. Bella noticed their stares - some with judgement, some with curiosity. For the most part, Carlisle was keeping his distance. He would touch her arm to get her attention or put his palm to the small of her back to guide her. Once, when one of the stage hands leered at her, he stepped to her side, angling his body in a distinctly protective - somewhat possessive - gesture.

"Five minutes," one of the hands said all too soon.

Carlisle turned to Bella, his expression regretful. "I'm sorry."

She had to grin. "This is the part I came for, remember?

There was that grin she'd seen so many times on shaking hand held YouTube videos, all sex appeal and a deceivingly bad-boy image. It made her breath catch, and he chuckled, knowing damn well what he was doing.

He raised his hand, brushing his fingers under her chin, his eyes straying down to her lips for the space of a breath. "Then enjoy the show."

Bella didn't realize she hadn't moved until she heard laughter. The man who'd come to get her put a hand on her shoulder. "Come on, lovely. I'll show you the best place to stand. I'm Alistair by the way. In case you care," he teased.

He led her to a place just off the stage where she could watch.

Carlisle Cullen on the stage was a revelation. How often had she listened to his words, his music, hearing the truth about life, about love? It was different here. The energy filled her every pore - a power, an undeniable energy embodied and supplied by the man on the stage. He poured his soul into every word, from the playful songs where he seduced the audience with a sexy come hither stare to the songs of lost love where his pain was acute. Bella could feel her heart twist where she stood.

And for Bella, it was as if she could see him whole for the first time. The man who sang for everyone in that venue was passionate and so alive, but the man she'd glimpsed a week ago was present in the space between the notes, the words that filled the silences between lyrics.

He was beautiful.

Bella had no words, no definition for the adrenaline that made her blood flow hotter through her veins, pumped faster by her heart. She had no way to explain the emotion in her, and no choice but to simply let it run through her.

He ended the night with an old song - one of his first. It was about the spark of unlikely love, about a bewitching girl he just couldn't get out of his head.

And when he sang, he turned his body slightly so he was looking not at the audience but at her.

It was far and away the most visceral moment of Bella's entire life. She felt exposed and titillated - like her body was bare before him, her every nerve ending alive and aware. She rubbed the back of her neck, her eyes locked with his, her throat dry as sand.

It felt like an age before he was finally wishing the crowd goodnight. But then he was stepping toward her - his pace quick, but not as quick as she would like.

Neither of them said anything when he was finally backstage. They were surrounded by other people, and yet the intensity between them was a physical entity. Bella was frankly astounded it wasn't more obvious. Before he could be engulfed, Carlisle reached out, grabbing her hand. She walked at arms length behind him, the voices around them a blur. Bella was vaguely aware he was responding to questions and little bits of conversation being thrown at him, but she couldn't concentrate at all.

Finally, they reached his dressing room. There were fewer people by then, but still, Bella was shocked - and eternally grateful - when Carlisle pulled her into the privacy of the room behind him.

She absolutely could not help her reaction as soon as the door snicked shut. Her arms were around his neck in an instant, and she pushed up onto her tiptoes to kiss him. This wasn't a gentle kiss, not like the slow kisses they'd shared before. This was all her pent up emotion, the intense energy that only minutes ago had filled the whole venue welling up through her.

Apparently, they were on the same page. He pressed her back against the door, his body pinning hers. When she wrapped her legs around his waist, his hands went to her thighs. His lips on hers were hard, keeping up easily with the fevered pace she set. The taste of his skin was salty, but the taste of his mouth - as her tongue sought his - was sweet somehow. So good.

When they were both breathless, she opened her eyes, breathing in the air he breathed out. She devoured him with her gaze, trailing her fingers up to trace the tattoos along his bare arms. She grinned at him, purposefully smudging the eyeliner he wore with the pads of her thumbs. For a moment, she let herself admire him like the rockstar he was. Then she worked her fingers under the wig he wore, thinking she preferred him as a blond.

He smiled against her lips when he kissed her again, a little calmer this time.

"Will you have dinner with me tonight?" he asked between kisses.

She had to laugh. Part of her wished she was smoother, more confident, so she could tell him the first thought that came to her mind without stammering or blushing or generally making a fool out of herself like she knew she would if she tried.

She wanted much more than dinner from this man.

"Yes," she said out loud, reluctantly putting her feet back on the ground. "I'll have dinner with you."

_**~0~**_

Part of Carlisle wanted Alistair to stop him, or if not his friend, then for someone to say something. No one commented, though, when he and Bella emerged from his dressing room together. There were a few disapproving glances, but Carlisle knew all of these people had seen much worse than a forty-year-old rockstar holding hands with an eighteen-year-old fan.

Before they parted ways, after Bella was already in the passenger seat of his car, Alistair clapped his shoulder, his wise eyes understanding. "I see it, you know." His tone was musing. "There's something about her, something in her eyes that's all spitfire, and yet there's something so sweet about her nature. She sees people - not color or gender or... age, but people - the same way Esme did."

Carlisle stared at his friend, waiting for him to say how wrong it was on so many levels.

Instead, Alistair just sighed, his expression serious. "Be careful, Carlisle. Not only with her heart but with yours, too."

He could have driven straight to the hotel. Part of him wanted to. There was a large portion of his... mind preoccupied with how her body had felt pinned beneath his against the door, how amazing it was when she ran her fingers through his hair.

How her kisses reminded him he wasn't as old as he felt sometimes. He was still young, still capable of having these amazing experiences that were a hundred percent new. How could he have guessed? He'd been with a fair number of women, and he'd begun to think he'd experienced the full spectrum of emotions a kiss could elicit.

Not so.

But he was conflicted about what he should be feeling, what he should be doing. Yes, she was an adult and capable of making her own choices - to belittle that would be wrong - but could it be right to be with her like that when he was as old as her father? A few months older, if he was doing the math right.

Then again, Charlie Swan had been a young father.

Either way, rather than take her back to his hotel room where things would surely get out of hand too quickly, they found another quiet all night diner.

There was a hectic look of excitement that sparked in her eyes, colored her cheeks, even as she sat across from him sipping hot chocolate again. She was so stunning, captivatingly beautiful.

Distracting himself, he engaged her in a game of twenty questions. One question for him, one for her.

He asked where her mother was and watched her face as she spoke of a woman who flitted about as she pleased. Bella's expression was patient, when she spoke of her mother, adoring and understanding.

The look on her face turned coy when she raised an eyebrow and innocently asked him if he'd ever kissed a boy. Shocked, he laughed and answered more than one.

"And you?" he challenged, wondering privately if he really wanted to know.

Her cheeks tinged pink. "One boy," she muttered to her plate before lifting her head, looking at him with hooded eyes. "And one man, I suppose."

He only had time to ponder that for a handful of seconds before she was on to the next question.

Carlisle found himself increasingly fascinated, leaning across the table as he was caught up in her answers. She tried to joke off how much trouble she'd be in with her father, who'd grounded her after last week's escapades. She tried to look nonchalant, but he read more into the furrow of her brow. She simply wasn't used to being a troublesome teenager and didn't like to worry her overprotective father.

Her face was so animated, her hands waving to emphasize her words, as she spoke of the future. She wanted to be a doctor or a scientist - one of those scientists who worked on curing cancer or something like that. She wanted to help people, which was something he understood. He'd toyed with the idea of being a doctor before music and fame claimed him. He tried to make up for it by donating money where he could. At least once a year, he did a benefit concert, or agreed to be part of an ensemble act to raise money for whatever cause caught his eye that year.

And toward the end of the meal, Carlisle realized with only a small degree of surprise he was entirely smitten with this woman. It was more than the way she reminded him of Esme, reminded him of the life he'd let slip through his fingers. Bella was unique - entirely separate and breathtaking in her own way. She was all passion and honesty. She didn't know how to mask her emotions, so she was shy one moment and brazen the next. She was a conundrum he was endlessly fascinated with and desperate almost to the point of pain to figure out.

"It's late." Even he could hear the intent in his voice when they came to the end of their meal and it was either time to say goodbye or let nature take its course. "You shouldn't try to drive home tonight."

Her eyes locked on his, wide and wanting. Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips. "I've got nowhere to stay."

Tentative, he reached out and cupped her cheek feeling a deep adoration run through him as he looked on her. "You know that isn't true."

_**~0~**_

By the time they got back to the hotel, neither of them was trying to deny what they were doing. They were discreet up until they were behind closed doors, only holding hands as they walked, but the second they were safe in his room, they were tangled up in each others arms.

Carlisle couldn't remember the last time sex had felt this urgent - where he bumped against walls and stumbled and fumbled trying to get to a flat surface. Briefly, he considered letting them fall to the floor, but somehow he couldn't do that. Before they could tip, he turned, pressing Bella up against the wall so he could kiss her as thoroughly as he wanted to.

Far from arguing, Bella had her legs wrapped around him again in an instant, her arms wound around his neck and her hands in his hair. She bucked her body against his, urging him on.

Making sure his grip on her was firm, he pulled away from the wall with her still in his arms. It was one of those miracles of lust and magic that he could somehow navigate the room while still attached to her at the lips.

He did manage to get them into the bedroom before he tripped, sending them both sprawling. He landed on top of her on the bed, both of them huffing out a startled breath.

Somewhat amused at his own fervor, Carlisle rolled onto his side, holding himself above her for a moment. He ran his fingers over her lips thinking how young and innocent she looked with her hair fanned out, her hands up by her head. But when she took his finger into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the tip, he felt lightheaded. She could be such a vixen.

Leaning in, he claimed her lips again, bringing his hand down to rest on the curve of her breast. The way she moaned into his mouth, her hips pressing up against his, drove him a bit out of his mind. He brushed his thumb over her nipple just to hear it again.

He pulled them both into a sitting position, ghosting his hands over the soft skin of her belly before running up to cup her breasts. His fingers were deft. He undid the clasp of her bra easily, and had her shirt up and off a second later.

God, she was glorious. Perky little breasts. She was so sexy. When she bit her lip, tugging at his shirt, he pulled it off for her and lay her back down on the bed, skin to skin, reveling in the feel as he drew his fingers up and down her spine.

He touched her everywhere, exploring, finding out quickly what made her gasp or moan. The way her body responded to him had him in a tizzy, he was so dizzy with want for her.

They were both moving against each other so much, it took him a moment to understand she was trembling. Hard.

He pulled away, pressing the back of his knuckles against her cheek. She was clinging to him, her fingers pressing into his back so hard, he was actually a little surprised he hadn't noticed before. And her eyes were screwed tightly shut, her mouth hanging open slightly as her breath came harder than was typical even for this kind of circumstance. "Bella?"

"I um... Can we... can we stop?" she asked between gasps.

He shifted instantly, putting some distance between them. Sitting upright, he gently pulled her up with him. Grabbing his shirt first because it was closer, he pulled it over her head, helping her get her arms through the tangled sleeves. "There," he said soothingly, stroking her hair.

"I'm sorry." She was very close to tears, he could tell by the tone of her voice. "I'm so sorry."

Quickly, he wrapped her in a tight hug, comforting this time instead of titillating. She sagged against him, trembling, trying to catch her breath. "Don't apologize," he whispered into her hair, rocking them slightly. "It's fine. Just fine."

"I want... But..." she sputtered, and it broke his heart just a little. He remembered her words from earlier. She'd only ever kissed one boy before. How overwhelmed she must have been if he was the first one to touch her, to see her like this.

And maybe her body had not been responding to _his_touch but the newness of anyone touching her as a lover would.

Carlisle blew out a breath, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to find his right mind. "It's okay," he said again. "You're fine."

"Can you sleep?" he asked a few minutes later when her breath had evened out and she'd stopped shaking.

Her eyes were uncertain as she looked up at him, slightly ashamed and every bit as young as she actually was. "Will you stay?" she asked in a small voice. "With me, I mean."

He thought he understood what she needed. Despite the fact she wasn't ready to go further with him, she didn't want to feel rejected.

Smiling, he tilted her chin up and pressed a lingering, chaste kiss to her lips. "I'm right here."

He lay awake for a long time after she fell into an exhausted sleep. In the darkness and silence of the room he thought about everything. He thought about his forty years of life. What he'd lived. What he'd lost. His experiences in love, lust, and shared moments between two people.

He thought about all the things he wanted, and what he could have.

He thought about the millions of possible futures that lay ahead of him, of her. He didn't believe in right or wrong experiences, but age had given him the perspective of the responsibility he had in his choices.

There were so many paths in front of him, and he knew he only had until morning to choose the one he could live with.

* * *

**A/N: Happy holidays to you all. Much love to each and every one of you.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Merry Holidays everyone! Let's get this done.**

* * *

The sun had long set before someone came to find him. Alistair. His friend and manager knocked on his door, but Carlisle didn't answer. He shouldn't have been surprised when the man retrieved a key and let himself into the hotel room.

Carlisle didn't acknowledge his friend. He kept on at what he'd been doing for hours now - sitting in his comfortable suite, staring out the window as day turned to night across the Portland skyline.

"Are you drunk, Carlisle?" Alistair asked, and Carlisle wasn't so far gone he couldn't hear the incredulity in the other man's voice. It had been a long time since he'd had more than a casual beer. A very long time.

"I didn't want to think for a while," he finally explained himself. What he really meant was he didn't want to feel. Just for a few hours, he wanted to turn everything off.

Alistair sighed and stooped. He gripped Carlisle under his arms, hauling him up. "Get in the shower. Don't make me strip you. You won't like it; I'll make sure of that."

Absolutely believing he would do it, Carlisle stumbled into the shower. He stood under the water, not washing but letting the warmth slide over him. He rested his head against the cool tile and stood there until the water ran cold.

When he got out of the shower and dressed, he left the bathroom to find Alistair had ordered room service and lots of it. "Didn't know what you'd want tonight," he said, his tone characteristically cheeky. When Carlisle didn't crack a smile, he shook his head. "Christ. Sit. Talk."

When Carlisle sat mechanically, he pushed coffee at him and laughed, shaking his head. "I know that look. You're about to spout some poetic nonsense at me." He was quiet for a moment, thoughtful. "I'm a straight forward kind of man. Numbers. Logic. This is what makes sense to me. I could never see the world like you do." His grin was lascivious. "But I never needed to - not following you like I do. Being close to you was always enough to get me laid, and that's enough for me."

This finally got a reaction out of Carlisle. The corner of his mouth lifted. "I sent her home to her father," he said flatly.

"Your pretty Bella?"

Carlisle nodded slowly and closed his eyes.

_**~0~**_

Her phone had been going off since about six in the morning. It was on silent, but when it lit up, it displayed a man around his age with Bella's brown hair and eyes.

Dad, it said.

Carlisle turned the phone over.

At eight, he squeezed his eyes closed, his will wavering.

Somehow, this girl, this woman, had changed his existence. He wanted, how desperately he wanted the future that had spun before his eyes last night - a future he'd thought he'd put away long ago.

He shook his head hard, remembering his resolve and why it had to be that way.

Lowering himself back down on the bed, he wrapped an arm around her, splaying his hand wide across her stomach as his lips tilted her chin up. He sucked lightly, drinking in her little moans as she came awake.

She blinked awake, her eyes focusing slowly. The confusion in her expression changed slowly to shy adoration as he stroked the pads of his fingers down her cheek. "Hey," she whispered. The scratchy quality of her voice was better than music to his ears.

"Hi," he whispered back. Slowly, he kissed her chin, each of her cheeks, the tip of her nose, before he lingered at her temple.

Her breath caught, and she pulled away slightly, her eyes searching his. Her fingertips played along his stubble-covered chin. "It's over, isn't it?"

He didn't answer - couldn't. His heart was pounding too fast, twisting with the ache of loss. His throat was too tight. He had no idea how she'd known, but he wasn't surprised. She was perceptive, and even in the little time he'd known her, it was obvious she saw too much of him.

"Is it because of last night?" There was that same scratchy tone he'd already fallen in love with, but the pitch was lower, sadder somehow - like a bluesy ballad. She pulled her knees up close to her chest as she sat up, and he hated that he'd made her retreat like that.

"No, Bella. Of course not." He was still whispering. He sat up too, his back against the headboard, and put his arm over her shoulder. When she leaned into him, he put his hand beneath her chin, tilting her face up, and kissed her. It was a serious kind of kiss, slow and soft. Before he could make himself pull away, the kiss built - a flame sucking up what little oxygen was left, trying not to go out.

The way they kissed then had the taint of desperation. Her arms wound around him, her fingers tangling in his hair, tugging to the point of pain, but he didn't care. He only held her tighter, kissed her deeper.

"There's a way. We'd figure it out," Bella said breathlessly when they parted.

He took her face between his hands, slowly shaking his head. She nodded, knowing he was right, and tilted her head up to catch his kiss again. They shifted. Rolled, and she was beneath him on the bed, her body pressing up against his even as his weight pinned her down.

He needed to feel her against him like this once. Just once. Like he could absorb her into himself and keep her there, safe under his skin.

Neither of them were trying to arouse as their bodies moved together; this wasn't about that. They were feeling, memorizing, expressing all the things they would never have the time to say to each other.

Eventually, their fervent kisses slowed, became something more achingly tender. They'd rolled again, and he held her cradled against his side now, her leg hitched up over his, their arms wrapped around each other. He hugged her to him tightly, pulling back to look at her, his thumbs stroking away the tears that had gathered beneath her eyes. He kissed her one last time - chaste, sweet.

And then he let her go.

_**~0~**_

"You didn't want to do it." It was not a question.

Carlisle didn't lift his head but took another long pull of coffee. "It was the last thing I wanted to do."

Alistair hummed noncommittally. "That doesn't track, Carlisle. She is an adult, and you're a freethinker. You've always believed in following your heart. You would have pushed over anyone who told you they knew what was better for you when you were eighteen. Hell, that _is_what you did when you were eighteen, and you've built a whole philosophy out of not regretting diving into life head first without looking. If it was what you wanted and what she wanted, why didn't you let it happen?

"Yes, I knew what I wanted." Carlisle turned the coffee cup between restless hands. "If I had... gone further down that road with her, I would never have been able to stop."

His friend gave an incredulous chuff. "What? A girl you don't know?"

At that, Carlisle had to smile. "Twenty-two years of following me around the world... you should know the answer to that question. Some things you just know."

It made Carlisle's head spin to think about the life he'd held in his hand for scant minutes. He shook his head. "Bella just isn't the kind of girl you take to your bed once. She isn't that kind of story." In all his years, Carlisle had never regretted the people he'd shared intimate moments with. They were all special in some way, stories he collected and held dear to his heart. "I would have wanted her forever." His heart ached at the prospect, wanting. "And she would have stayed."

"And what good could come of that?" Alistair finished for him.

Carlisle's throat was tight, but he nodded. He'd spun out so many scenarios - none of them turned out well. At least, none of them turned out good enough for her. "You're right. She's eighteen. She has to make her own choices, and she will make mistakes." His shoulders slumped. "I couldn't be one of them. I just couldn't let that happen."

"And she understood?"

Carlisle's smile was private then as he remembered. It hurt, yes, but it had only reinforced the perfect image he would carry with him the rest of his life.

The way her body had felt as he hugged her one last time, standing by her ancient, dilapidated truck, her head resting against his shoulder, and her breath soft and warm against his neck.

In a lot of ways, he'd reflected, it might have been easier if she pitched a fit, acted her age, proved to him that she was the immature child she, in all fairness, should have been at that point.

But she didn't argue, didn't really fuss. Like him, she understood that the ending to the story they were writing was sweet and beautiful just like this. TIme would only have tainted what they'd found in two amazing nights both of them would treasure forever.

She'd never been meant for him - not then - and they both knew it.

Maybe she would become a doctor or a scientist like she dreamed about, maybe her life would pull her down another, unexpected path. That was the way it was supposed to be, the natural order of things.

Alistair put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "You did the right thing," he assured for what it was worth.

Carlisle sat back on the sofa, trying to ignore the knife twisting away at the very center of his heart. "Do you think I'd make a good father?" he asked as a distraction - just one of the millions of questions flying around his skull, none of them settling for very long.

"What?!" His friend choked on his words, looking stunned. When Carlisle only looked steadily back at him, he gave a disconcerted sounding laugh before he finally answered. "You know you'd make a good father. Your sister always tells you so. Heaven knows you've been a better fatherly influence on her boys than their biological waste of skin."

When he was twenty-three and falling in love with Esme, he'd briefly dreamed of the future he might have with her. He'd seen himself as a father. He'd wanted that badly.

She'd died, taking that dream with her, burying it, or so Carlisle had thought. But his brief time with Bella had reawakened thoughts of a permanent home, of the possibility of a family. He was still a young man, after all. He could have those things. Maybe not with Bella, but maybe...

"I don't know what happens next," he admitted, covering his face with his hands. His world felt upside down and unrecognizable.

"I know what you need, you crazy bastard," Alistair muttered, getting to his feet.

Carlisle watched as he searched the room. He retrieved Carlisle's guitar and the notebook of liner notes he always kept close by and shoved them at him. "Here. Focus. Channel. You always make more sense when you speak this language."

Carlisle's lips twisted as he ran his hands down the blank liner notes, remembering how he'd been the equivalent of musically tonguetied all week trying to figure out what he wanted to say about Bella. Just remembering that frustration had him feeling anxious.

"Just try," Alistair prompted.

Grumbling, Carlisle put his hands to his guitar, tuning experimentally, testing the waters. If his fingers had a song for him, they would play.

To his surprise, his fingers began moving, strumming.

Writing the story of the love he'd found, tasted, and let slip through his fingers.

_**~0~**_

Frustrated, Bella pushed the stack of college applications away. Her eyes were stinging. Again.

This was just stupid. She had spent less than twenty-four cumulative hours with this man; it was silly that she felt like she was getting over a breakup.

It had been nothing... shared kisses and touches with a man a little older than her father. Carlisle had kissed a lot of other people.

Holy God, he was good at kissing.

But it shouldn't have felt like her heart was breaking.

That night, there had been such an energy between them, a magnetism she couldn't deny no matter how much she told herself she was just being a silly fangirl - no better than a stupid groupie who thought they had something special just because a rockstar pressed them up against the dressing room door.

Still, the way he'd looked at her... the way he'd kissed her the next morning, looking like it would kill him to let her go... she couldn't help but think they were on the same page, that he felt the same way she did.

They had something that could have been beautiful.

It was a romantic idea, but at the end of the day, Bella was a practical person. She still had most of a year of high school left. He was still a rockstar who traveled around the country - around the world - eight months out of the year.

The instant he kissed her that first night in his hotel room, fantasies of following him began to replace her daydreams of colleges in sunny locales. That was a scary thought.

Her mother would have gone. In a heartbeat, she would have given up everything else for the adventure. But then again, even Renee, after having a baby at eighteen, had buckled down, earned her degree, and taught kindergarten to support Bella. Only when Bella was seventeen and had decided on her own to live with Charlie in Forks did Renee strike out on the road with her man.

It had its charm, but Bella had never understood the appeal until very recently.

Bella shook that thought away, digging her fists into her eyes. Breathing out a long, slow breath, she pulled the stack of applications toward her again. College would be its own adventure, she knew.

Listlessly, trying not to remember the adrenaline of being just off the side of the stage watching _him_, Bella shifted through the paperwork.

She stopped when she came across one from the University of Chicago.

When they were playing twenty questions and she asked where he actually lived, Carlisle had mused that Chicago was as much his home as anywhere else. It was where he spent the biggest chunk of time. He had a home there. His sister and his nephews were there.

Really, she didn't care where she went for her bachelor's degree. Whether she ended up a scientist, a doctor, or something else entirely, she didn't have her heart set on one specific school.

Ignoring the voice in her head that told her she was fooling no one, Bella began to fill out the application.

_**~Two Years Later~**_

"Hey, Alice! I, - Oh! Jeez." Bella threw her hands up over her eyes, ducking into the little kitchenette of the dorm she shared with her roommate, Alice Brandon.

Despite the fact their Sophomore year had provided them with a more spacious dorm - one where the living room and the bedroom they shared was separate - this was now the second time Bella had come in to the sight of Alice's boyfriend's lily white ass as he fucked her on the couch.

"Sorry, Bella," Jasper called. "All clear."

Alice was utterly unapologetic. "It's your own fault. I was just exposing Jasper to that guy you got me into. That Cullen guy."

"Carlisle Cullen," Bella filled in, her lips quirking upward automatically.

"You know that song off the new album... It's impossible not to get all hot and bothered."

Bella had to turn away to cover her blush. She knew the song.

It was about her, them.

Actually, that whole album was about her, about the two nights the spent together.

At first, when the album came out about three months before, she'd thought she had to be imagining things. It had to be coincidence - the way he sang about a girl who set his whole world spinning.

And yes, there was one song... The lyrics were incendiary, the strum of his guitar quick, carrying the same fire. It took her right back to that night when his hands were on her bare skin, his kisses full of intent. Even remembering the song, without having to hear it, Bella rubbed the back of her neck. Every cell in her body, every inch of her skin, was aware, switched on.

She swallowed hard.

As she sat down with her friends, her mind wandered.

She didn't regret driving away from Carlisle Cullen that day. He was right to let her go. She certainly didn't regret the experiences she had just in her first year at the University of Chicago.

And his life had changed too. How strange it was that she could watch his life from afar. The trials and pitfalls of celebrity...

She tried not to dwell on how it could have been her burden too.

He'd adopted a little boy on his own in the last year. Even though she hated paparazzi pictures - they were so intrusive - she had to admit when she glimpsed them on magazines as she passed by, it had made her feel warm inside to see him with his son. It was undeniably sexy: this rockstar with his sunglasses, his secret smile, his perfectly mussed hair and a toddler boy in his arms.

"Well, hey. This Carlisle Cullen guy has a show coming up here in Chicago." Jasper's voice and Carlisle's name brought Bella out of her reverie. He had his phone in his hand and put his arm over Alice's shoulders. "We should go."

"Oh, yeah! I like everything you've played for me, Bella. It'd be great to see him live." She turned to Jasper. "Bella said she saw him a couple of times when she was in high school."

"He was great," Bella murmured, a little dizzy as she remembered exactly how great.

"We can get a whole group together." Alice's smile was coy as she tapped on Bella's knee. "That guy? The one I keep trying to introduce you to? He loves music. We should invite him too."

Bella pursed her lips, rolling her eyes at her friend and roommate's persistence, and shrugged nonchalantly. "Sure. Invite him." Again she was distracted, remembering Alistair coming to get her, to bring her backstage.

She'd purposefully avoided his concerts these last two years, but now...

"You never know what will be the beginning of something amazing," she murmured out loud.

* * *

**A/N: I'd like to take this time to remind you... this fic was dictated by jessypt, so if you have complaints... you blame her!**

**Thanks for reading. I actually really enjoyed writing this little fic, even though writing Carlisle as a sexual being is... just... wrong. Heh. **

**OH! Tkegl made me a GORGEOUS banner. Check it out. Link to all my banners is in my profile.**

**I hope you all had a good Christmas.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: … I'm an enabler. Jessypt has figured out I can't say no.**

**::Jess butts in:: Soooo, when I originally envisioned this story, like seriously over two years ago, I NEVER wanted Carlisle and Bella to end up together. When Kris posted the last chapter, I was content. It was exactly what I wanted.**

**But then, she had to succumb to her lovely readers (YOU!) and write a mini little "what-if" snippet. And that changed everything. Now, all of a sudden I needed/wanted more. I could envision a life for these two years down the road. So... I basically twisted her arm to write more... and God love her, she did/is! **

**I hope you like what we've plotted out and that Kris has graciously agreed to write ::cough:: Carlisle/Bella sex ::cough:: twice ::cough:: You're welcome and ENJOY! ::Jess backs out::**

* * *

Alice was smut with satisfaction when Bella asked for her help putting together an outfit for the concert. Of course. She'd been trying to set Bella up with Jasper's best friend, Peter Damon, for ages.

"It would be too perfect," Alice said, giddy. "My best friend dating his best friend? Come on. You have to see that's kismet."

Bella just rolled her eyes and let Alice believe what she wanted.

In all honesty, she had every intention of giving Peter a chance. He sounded nice enough, and there was no reason not to. Anyway, it would get Alice off her back about moving on past her first, somewhat disastrous relationship.

Freshman year had been an experience to say the least. She was halfway across the country from either of her parents for the first time. It was further than she'd been from the west coast... ever. She was meeting interesting new people - her roommate, of course, and Jasper.

And then there was James.

In retrospect, Bella could have kicked herself for falling for James. It was not a new story. She was the Freshman who knew no one. He was the handsome, charming, athletic upperclassman with a smile that could make anyone's knees weak. There was an edge of danger around James, and though she would kick herself later, at the time, it was appealing.

The relationship only lasted as long as it took for James to show his true colors. He was controlling - psychotically so. When he found Bella and Jasper hanging out together on the quad, he went ballistic. Jasper ended up with a black eye, James with a broken nose, and Bella minus one boyfriend when she kicked his ass to the curb.

She wasn't jaded. Honestly, she wasn't so very attached to James. She'd just never been the kind of girl who needed or wanted a boyfriend constantly. She didn't spend a lot of time thinking about boys.

Except this week. She'd been entirely preoccupied this week, though not with a boy. No, Carlisle Cullen was far away from boyhood.

There were so many reasons nitpicking her outfit for tonight was just ridiculous. It hadn't even occurred to her to do anything before and look where that had gotten her.

Looking in the mirror, Bella put her palms to her flushed cheeks, remembering.

It was easy to convince herself she had to have been dreaming; she had to have made it all up. There was no way she'd spent two nights in an internationally known artist's bed. There was no way they'd been skin to skin, his body pressing hers down.

And even if it had all happened, he'd sent her on her merry way two years ago. It made zero sense that a man with friends all over the world even remembered a silly little girl with a broken down truck. She wasn't so naive that she believed a man like Carlisle - though he was unquestionably a gentleman - had bedded his fair share of people. The blushing virgin who got in over her head too quickly couldn't have been so memorable, at least not for any good reason.

Except there was a whole album that suggested maybe, impossibly, she'd left the same mark on him he had on her.

But what difference did it make? They were still separated by twenty-two years. Certainly, the time between had given Bella more experience, more perspective. But then, it wasn't as though Carlisle had stayed still. He was a father now; his world had changed as much as hers had if not more.

_Best not to even think about it, girl_, she warned herself.

_**~0~**_

Peter was quite funny. He was handsome, charming, attentive, and hilarious when she was paying attention.

He was also very much aware she wasn't paying complete attention.

"Are more of us coming?" he asked, catching her less than surreptitiously glancing around.

Bella cleared her throat, trying not to look guilty. "Just people watching."

He nodded and shifted, leaning in close enough to her ear that Bella shivered at his nearness. It wasn't an altogether unpleasant feeling. "I don't want to make assumptions; you seem like a pretty capable gal. But there's this creeper staring at you."

Surprised, Bella carefully looked in the direction Peter indicated, her heart already pounding.

The corners of the man's eyes crinkled as he grinned at her across the room, the expression teasing and ever so slightly flirtatious.

Alistair.

He extended one hand, crooking his finger in a beckoning motion.

"Just say the word, and I'll do something about it," Peter offered.

"No, it's okay," she said quickly. "He's a friend."

Peter's expression turned incredulous. "He's a friend?" he repeated as if the words were completely nonsensical to him.

Bella frowned at him but found she didn't have enough space in her head to concentrate on sussing out exactly what Peter's look meant. Her throat had gone dry, her pulse thready. Shaking her head dismissively at Peter, Bella found herself lurching forward before she consciously thought through her actions.

"Hey, Alistair," she said when she got to him, pleased that her voice was reasonably steady.

He chuckled, reaching out to take her hand. He pressed his lips to her knuckles, and Bella recognized that he was playing with her. "So, you do remember me. Well, that's quite an honor. Typically I'm the vague shape standing beside the one they're really looking at."

She tilted her head at him. "Does that ever get tiring? Being known for who you are in relation to someone else?"

He raised his eyebrows and gave a little laugh. His smile was private. "If it were anyone but Carlisle, I might be bitter." He chuckled. "Won't you come with me, lovely? I think you know I wasn't the one who spotted you."

At his words, Bella felt herself sway a bit with lightheadedness. When she hesitated, suddenly unbearably nervous and self-conscious, Alistair tilted his head, leaning in to whisper so only she could hear. "He's just about as nervous as you seem, dearie. It's a little adorable, I don't mind telling you."

Bella had to smile. She couldn't help it.

A niggling thought at the back of her mind demanded attention, and she gasped, turning to look over her shoulder. By then, Peter, Alice, and Jasper were all staring her with varying expressions of concern and confusion.

"Here with friends this time?" he observed. "How many?"

"Three."

He nodded and raised his hand, beckoning now to the others. Bella turned slightly so she could give them a smile of confirmation. "Everyone's invited, of course."

Alistair was smooth as ever as he introduced himself and told their motley little crew to follow him.

When she realized where they were being led, Alice grabbed Bella by the arm, hauling her backward to a slower pace. "Bella," she hissed. "We're going backstage! How the fuck did you pull this off?!"

Before Bella could answer, they had arrived in a private room off the soundbooth with a perfect view of the stage.

Alistair excused himself, ducking into the soundbooth, and Bella's friends jumped on her.

"What the heck is going on?"

"Did you win some kind of contest without telling us, hells Bells?"

"Seriously, Bella, if you don't tell me what you..." Alice's words trailed off, her eyes going wide as she focused on a spot just over Bella's head.

The energy in the room had shifted. Even without Alice's reaction, Bella would have known exactly who was standing behind her. Goosebumps raised on her arms, a pleasant shiver shooting down her spine. The skin of her back was warm, as if the energy he exuded was enough she could feel it on her body. She turned slowly.

For a long moment, they stared at each other. Her memories had not done him justice at all, and as before, she observed that no video, no glossy magazine photo could capture his stunning beauty. He was the rockstar again, sexy and stunning.

In direct contrast to the confident way he held himself, his eyes reflected the more serious emotion she felt - uncertain but intense. "Hi, Bella," he said, his tone quiet. He held his hand out.

"Hey," she answered, her voice a breath. She curled her fingers around his.

The moment she touched him, she knew. Everything she remembered about the precious little time she spent with Carlisle was true. She hadn't made up the way the air felt around them: electric and incendiary and alive. Even at this simple touch she felt it, and time, sound, sense seemed to warp.

Suddenly, anything was possible.

_**~0~**_

"You realize that's the start to a lot of pornos, right?"

"Alice!" Bella hissed at her friend, turning beet red.

Carlisle looked down at the table top, hiding a smile behind his hand. Bella's friends were amusing to say the least.

Sitting beside her, Peter chuckled, elbowing her lightly to get her attention. "I have this image in my head now of you walking down the road, doing that thing women are supposed to do where they stick their leg out to hitch a ride." He waggled his eyebrows at her.

Beneath the table, Carlisle's fist clenched reflexively. He was glad he had one hand up, over his mouth or someone might have noticed his lips turn downward.

It was completely stupid to be irritated at Peter. He was only acting exactly how any other twenty-something would be around a woman as beautiful and beguiling as Bella. He was a flirt - a charming one at that with the kind of grin that could make a person's breath catch.

And it was very clear he was entirely unaware Carlisle presented any kind of competition.

Obviously, none of Bella's friends knew she'd met him before - that was clear by how they'd reacted to him before the concert. And afterward, the minute they were tucked into the corner booth in the VIP lounge of a swanky club, they demanded the story.

Bella had told them the truth, carefully editing the part where he kissed her and not talking about Portland at all.

Beside him, Alistair cleared his throat. Loudly. He stretched, discreetly bowing his head in Carlisle's direction. "You're being pathetically obvious, mate."

That was when he realized he was glaring across the table, his eyes fixated on Peter's hand. Peter was idly twirling a long strand of her hair around and around and around his finger.

And when Carlisle looked up, he saw that Peter was staring at him.

The two men gazed at each other. Peter's eyes narrowed - the look of a man assessing a threat. Carlisle only hesitated for a second before he let his mouth curl up in what he knew damn well was a sly, cocky grin.

He'd been working an audience, owning a stage for well over half his life. There was no competition, and he could see the boy knew it.

Of course, that didn't stop him from upping his game. Peter wasn't without advantages, Carlisle mused. He was sitting next to Bella for one thing.

And he made so much more sense.

Not for the first time, Carlisle wondered if there was anything going on between them. Bella had introduced him as a friend, but there'd been a pinch of nerves to the sound of her voice.

Honestly, there were a million things he wanted to know but didn't. Even if she wasn't with Peter, was she - or had she been - with someone else? It was likely. In fact, it was what he wished for her. He remembered their game of twenty questions, remembered her coy look when she admitted to kissing one boy and one man.

What would she say now if he were to ask the same question?

"It was nice of you to stop," Jasper commented, still going over the finer points of the story of how Carlisle and Bella met. "A lot of people wouldn't."

Carlisle's smile was easy and sincere as he looked over at Bella, remembering the first time he saw her - drenched and bedraggled, obviously young and pretty. He'd wanted nothing more than to protect her. "It was the middle of the night, on a dark street, in the pouring rain. There was only one right thing to do, in my opinion."

Bella's cheeks pinked as she looked up at him, her lips quirking upward.

Peter chuffed, his eyes searching. "And plenty of wrong things to do." His tone was heavy with implication. "I think there's a special place in hell for any man who'd take advantage of that."

Either oblivious to the sudden tension at the table or not playing into it, Jasper continued on smoothly.

As Carlisle pretended not to notice, Peter stretched, putting his arm around Bella over the back of the booth. He ran the tips of his fingers over her bare shoulder to get her attention and leaned in to whisper something in her ear that made her laugh.

Jealousy made Carlisle's stomach twist, though he knew he had no right.

He had no right at all.

Somehow, that didn't stop him from carefully finding her foot under the table, nudging it gently with his.

It was such a little gesture it could have been misconstrued as an accident. He'd just needed to touch her somehow, someway.

And it took her attention away from Peter. She looked up, toward Carlisle with surprise. He was careful to keep his attention focused on Alice, who was speaking again. Out of his peripheral vision he saw her press her lips together and then felt a tentative toe touch to the side of his foot.

He glanced at her, holding her gaze for a three count beat.

Like when they'd briefly touched before his show, the very air changed. His thoughts were instantly diverted, and he saw nothing, knew nothing but the look in her eyes. He remembered with stunning clarity what it was like the first time he took her face in his hands, how it felt to know with absolute certainty he couldn't live the rest of his life if he didn't kiss her right then.

This girl, this woman, drove him so crazy. She'd turned his life upside down and changed him irrevocably in two nights and now she was right in front of him again. What was he supposed to do with that?

From the moment he saw her on the side of the road, he'd never been able to get her out of his head. He'd spent weeks writing song after song, trying to encapsulate how and why she meant so much in so little time. One album full of songs later and he was no closer to figuring out why, and really, what did it matter?

After she bounced in and out of his life, he'd made so many changes. He'd realized there was so much missing in his life. He spent more time at home now. He'd adopted a wonderful baby boy who made his life so much more complete.

She was the catalyst, and as ridiculous as it sometimes seemed, he'd often found himself missing her.

A question from Alice drew his attention, making him break his stare. He fervently wished they were alone. There was so much he wanted. He wanted to ask her if she'd noticed, when he sang that night, that he'd so often looked up at the dark glass window that hid the private room from view.

He should have felt self-conscious - naked and vulnerable. She'd had a knack for seeing everything - even the words he didn't say when he sang. But somehow, with Bella, it didn't feel uncomfortable being so exposed.

"So!" Peter's voice was a touch too loud even in the crowded club. It made Carlisle start. "It's kind of weird, isn't it? Bella must have been one girl in hundreds." He ducked his head, giving Carlisle a knowing look. "Over the course of your career, obviously."

Carlisle felt a flash of irritation, especially when he saw the insecurity and hurt flash over Bella's face before she looked down at the table. He brushed the tip of his shoe along her ankle until she lifted her head again.

"I'm sure I don't have to tell you," he said, looking at Bella instead of Peter. "Bella isn't the kind of girl you forget under any circumstances."

Her answering smile - shy and pleased - was the highlight of his entire week.

_**~0~**_

Bella was going out of her mind, out of her skin.

All night, she'd felt jumpy, all too aware of Carlisle's presence. During the concert, she'd been entirely focused. God only knew what the other three might have said to her; she certainly didn't remember. She'd been lost in his movements and the way he sang his songs.

She could have sworn, when he sang the ones from his newest album, he was staring right at her.

Just like the first time she'd seen Carlisle in concert, she had trouble not jumping him the second he got back in the room. Adrenaline made her blood quick and hot through her veins, and she so wanted to touch him. She'd squeezed Alice's arm so hard her friend yelped.

And most of the time at the club, Carlisle kept his distance, engaging her friends as frequently as he did her.

Although, the way he looked at her sometimes... Holy hell. It made her just as breathless as his kisses.

Oh, sweet baby Jesus, she wanted to kiss him again.

But at the end of the night he'd taken her hand, squeezing it tightly, and only kissed her cheek. "It was so good to see you again," he'd said.

And now she was alone in her dorm room - Alice was at Jasper's - miserable and turned on and restless right down to her bones.

If she knew where his hotel was, she would have been there. What she would do...

What she needed was to convince her stupid psyche that he didn't want her. If he did, he would have-

A knock at the door cut off her thoughts. Bella actually gasped, startled at being reminded there were more people in the world than herself and Carlisle.

It wasn't so unusual for someone to knock on their dorm room door in the middle of the night. It was Saturday, after all.

Growling to herself, Bella got up and walked to the door. She opened it, and all the breath left her body in one long huff.

Carlisle was leaning on the door frame, his head resting on his arm, his beautiful face close and his expression uncertain.

For the longest five seconds of her entire life, they just stared at each other, a million questions neither of them knew how to voice filling the space between them.

Carlisle opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again.

And then Bella surged forward, grabbing him by his jacket and dragging him inside. She pushed up onto her toes, her kiss hungry and seeking. These were not tender kisses. These were need, pure and simple. These were filled with every moment she'd tensed her body to keep from touching him, from doing exactly this. They were kisses trying to make up for every moment she'd spent aching, wondering, wishing she'd made a different choice two years ago, that she hadn't left him.

"I missed you," she said breathlessly when they parted for one second.

His arms were wrapped around her waist, but his hands traveled up her body until he cupped her face. His eyes were shining, his expression as thrilled as she felt. "Oh, Bella," was all he said before he tilted his head to catch her lips again.

They would stumble a few feet, stopping to keep each other upright and steady - anything so they wouldn't have to part. She tugged him down onto the couch, pulling his body over hers.

"What are we doing?" he asked, panting hot air against her mouth.

"I don't know," she admitted. "But I don't want to stop this time."

He pulled back minutely, and Bella's heart stuttered, fear making her body freeze up.

Closing his eyes, he sighed quietly and kissed her sweetly, slowly. "Then we won't," he promised.

* * *

**A/N: So many thanks to AstridGreenEyes who made a cute banner for me. That was so very sweet. I love banners! **

**I really don't know if I should thank jessypt as I was supposed to be done with this. *glower* But she left flails all over my docs and that makes me smile.**

**It's almost worth this Carlisle being all … sexy... and... **

**My stomach. Ugh.**

**Thanks also to Barburella for putting up with me.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Clarification. I promised jessypt two lemons. I didn't say either of them were in the last chapter. Heh.**

* * *

It was the hot, wet, slight suction at his neck that coaxed Carlisle out of his pleasant dreams. He came awake with a little whine of pleasure. The skin of his neck was such an erogenous zone; he was thrust from hazy unconsciousness straight into the cloudy arena of lust.

He opened his eyes, watching for a handful of bleary moments as her hair - wild from sleep and his hands the night before - tickled his nose. As he came more awake, he was increasingly aware of other stimuli, each more pleasant than the last.

There was a hand, soft and warm, sending tingles across his chest. There was another hand idly twirling a lock of hair at his neck around and around. The feeling was delicious and the effect incendiary.

Wrapping his arms around her waist, he rolled them suddenly, carefully - this bed was so tiny - drawing out a delightful little squeal from Bella as he pinned her beneath him. In that instant, he became addicted to the sensation of her bare body pressing up against his.

"Don't you know old men need their rest?" His tone was a low rumble, teasing even as he scolded. "You should respect your elders."

A smile spread, slow and sultry, across her face. She reached up, winding her arms around his neck as she hummed. "Hmmm. Well, if old men need so much sleep, they need to learn not to be so goddamn hot if they're going to have much younger girlfriends with more stamina." She shifted, pressing her hips up against him, rubbing his hardon purposefully.

He gasped, biting the inside of his cheek, and growled as kissed her, his lips moving aggressively with hers. She drove him so crazy because he wanted to do a million things all at once when he was with her.

The night before had been a revelation. They didn't get very much talking done, and yet they'd communicated, or at least that was what it felt like. Carlisle didn't have words for this. He didn't know how to describe something that made no sense and yet all the sense in the world. He couldn't have expressed this emotion, complex and varied and textured as it was.

"Are we really doing this?" he'd asked as they made out on the couch. It felt surreal. His life had already changed so much from when they'd met. Could he really have everything?

Could he really have her?

To answer his question, she'd straddled him right there on the couch and, both shy and wanton, taken his hand and put it to her breast.

Nothing else in the world compared to how it felt when she finally slid down on him. Her eyes were open, hooded with want and adoration for him. Her body was perfect beneath his hands - soft and small. He thought he could live for the moans and murmured words that rolled off her tongue as he moved inside her.

Waking up like this, entertaining the idea this could be part of his life, Carlisle was dizzy with giddiness. A rush of energy went through him because he could think of a thousand different ways he wanted her. But before his fervor could get the better of him, he rolled slightly to the side, burying his nose at her neck and breathing in her salty-sweet scent.

They had time.

Pressing his back against the wall, he pulled her with him onto their sides. "You want to see stamina, do you?" he asked, and then took her lower lip gently between his teeth.

She gave a little moan, reaching between them to run her fingers along his cock. "Is that what you call this? It's a strange name, but I'll go with it."

He swallowed a groan - her hands felt amazing - and brushed down her back until he was palming her ass. "You're sassy this morning." He liked discovering this side of her - more bold than she had been two years before, more sure of her own sexual prowess. She definitely wasn't the trembling virgin she had been, and that both pleased him and made him more than a little jealous.

Tilting her head down, Bella broke their kiss, looking up at him with a suddenly pensive expression. "I'm just happy."

Realizing there was still a hint of a woman out of her depth in her, Carlisle was quick to cup her face tenderly. "So am I, sweetheart," he assured, and kissed her slowly - a serious kiss that built as their bodies brushed and wiggled against each other.

He needed her again. He needed to show her what she did to him. No part of him could walk away from this - not now, not for any reason he could fathom.

Pressing her onto her back, he reached for the nightstand where they'd tossed the condoms in their haste the night before. He was so lost in kissing her that he almost leaned too far, about to send them tumbling off the bed. He tightened his grip on her, keeping them steady. "This fucking bed is not big enough for two people," he grumbled.

Bella just smirked at him, tangling their legs together. "It is if those people _really _like each other."

Brushing his thumb over her nipple to hear her gasp, Carlisle smiled at her. "Well, it's a good thing we like _really_like each other." In emphasis, he thrust his hips against her, smothering a whimper because he could feel the heat she exuded and he was getting desperate to be inside her.

Apparently in agreement, Bella untangled their legs and lay back, tilting her head up to kiss the underside of his chin as he slipped the condom on. Through with that, he was over her in a heartbeat, reclaiming her lips as he positioned himself between her legs.

Just like the night before, when he thrust inside her, buried in her warmth, he had to pause for a moment because the emotion that welled in him was almost too much. He closed his eyes, nuzzling her cheek with the tip of his nose.

Then Bella bucked her hips, wrapping her legs around his waist and urging him on. Helpless but to obey, he began to move in her, with her.

She was glorious when she threw her head back, panting his name with a pleading wheeze. Her hands tugged at his hair, nails bit into the skin of his back. He thrust harder, faster, wanting, _needing _more from her.

"Never going to have enough. You're so perfect," he rumbled, nibbling along the lobe of her ear, working his way down to her chin and nipping at the skin of her neck.

The way she clenched around him nearly had him undone. Knowing she was close, and he wasn't so very far from release himself, he reached above them, gripping the headboard for leverage. They were both panting now, lips brushing with open mouthed kisses as their moans became guttural and loud.

Watching her come was a gorgeous sight, and her walls contracting against him pushed him into his own orgasm. He buried a scream into the pillow by her head more needing to be wrapped entirely around her than out of concern for the noise.

They were both breathing raggedly, the heel of her foot rubbing little circles against the small of his back.

With a grunt, Carlisle rolled, shifting them so she was mostly draped on top of him and his back was on the bed.

"Well," Bella said between pants, tracing idle patterns on his chest with the tips of her fingers. "You pass muster in the stamina department. I suppose I'll keep you."

He had to laugh. And then he peppered her face with kisses until she giggled.

_**~0~**_

"Hungry?"

Bella blushed. She couldn't answer right away, not when he was smiling at her like that.

For just a few seconds, her head spun. Carlisle Cullen - internationally known rockstar - was standing in her tiny kitchen, making her breakfast. After they'd had sex on the couch the night before. And in her tiny dorm room bed. Twice.

She'd dozed off and briefly panicked when she woke alone. But then she'd found the note he left on her nightstand teasing her - _so much for stamina_- and telling her he would be right back.

When he came back, she had just changed into one of her favorite concert t-shirts - a baby doll with one of his more suggestive lyrics right at breast level - he'd instantly dropped the bags of groceries in his hands and pulled her to him for a voracious kiss.

But then he had calmed somewhat, lifting her up onto the narrow counter to keep her from trying to help as he cooked. She kept stealing fresh berries from the bowl he'd set aside.

"I need to replenish my strength," she said with a grin, popping another blueberry in her mouth.

He glanced over his shoulder, stopping only briefly to push the pan of sizzling bacon off the burner before he turned back to her. Putting a hand on the counter next to her, he leaned in to her personal space and lifted a strawberry to her lips.

Bella's heart pounded. It was moments like these when she thought she would fail miserably at being smooth. If she stopped to think at all, she might wonder how many people he'd been with who could pull off being sexy in any given situation.

But that was one of the more thrilling aspects of how it felt when she was with him. Her inhibitions were lower, and she followed her desires. She leaned forward, taking the strawberry and the tips of his fingers into her mouth, swirling her tongue over his skin as she pulled the fruit forward. "Mmm," she hummed, straightening again.

The expression on his face was the definition of lust, his eyes wide, his mouth open, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. The air between them was static, magnetic. She bent down slightly to meet his kiss.

It was amazing how absolutely right this felt. Yes, they had so much they needed to figure out, needed to talk about, but for now, she was content to do this, possibly forever.

When his tongue swept across her lip, she opened her mouth, accepting him in. Her fingers mussed his hair as he pressed her back against the cabinets, his hands beginning to roam at her thighs, spreading her legs apart so he could step between them.

Her hunger then had nothing to do with food.

She moaned into his mouth when his hands slipped beneath the hem of her panties, his fingers seeking. She was-

"What the fuck!"

With a wild gasp, Bella pulled back so hard she hit her head on the cabinet behind her. Carlisle wrapped his hands around her waist, pulling her off the counter and stepping in front of her.

She raised her eyes to find herself staring at Alice, Jasper, and Peter in the doorway.

_**~0~**_

Carlisle rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, frustrated and more than a little irritated.

But, on the other hand, he really couldn't be too angry. Bella's friends were protective, and if he was being honest, they had every right to be.

Alice had sequestered Bella in their room, leaving Carlisle to face Jasper and Peter. At least Jasper was being relatively level-headed. Peter was being a little insulting.

"I knew you were full of shit. No one remembers a random girl they picked up on the side of the road years ago. Not if nothing happened," he said scathingly.

"Peter, calm down," Jasper tugged on his arm.

Yanking it away, Peter glared at his friend. "You should be more pissed off than I am. Bella is your friend. If I were you, I'd have kicked his ass first and asked questions later."

"What is it you think is happening here?" Carlisle asked evenly.

"I think you took advantage of her - then and now. Everyone knows superstars think they deserve the fucking world."

"You hang out with a lot of superstars, do you?" Carlisle returned, his tone still steady.

Peter's features twisted. "Is this just a game to you? She's an innocent girl!"

"I'm not a child, and I can speak for myself."

The three men turned to look as Bella, her eyes narrowed. "Back off, Peter." Her voice brokered no room for argument.

"I know we don't know each other that well, Bella, but this is not okay. A man like him has no business with a girl like you," Peter argued. "He's only going to hurt you."

"That is the last thing I want to do," Carlisle interjected. He wanted to defend himself and Bella. He was only keeping quiet because he had no right. They hadn't talked. She'd called him her boyfriend earlier this morning, but he didn't want to speak for her.

He knew what he wanted, but he couldn't assume.

"This is none of your business," Bella said brusquely. She stepped to Carlisle's side, taking his hand and tugging. "Come on," she said quietly. "Can we go?"

"Of course," he said quickly, threading their fingers together as he stood.

"Bella..." Jasper said. He looked uncertain. He definitely wasn't comfortable, Carlisle could tell that much, but he wasn't jumping to the same conclusions his friend was.

"She's fine, Jazz," Alice asserted. "Apparently, our Bella has a few secrets." Her expression was amused. "She'll be okay with Carlisle."

"Come on," Bella said quietly, and Carlisle let her lead him to the door.

"Remember to ask about dinner!" Alice called - the last thing they heard before the door closed behind them.

"What about dinner?" he asked as they walked away.

"Um." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bella flush. "The only way I could get her to stop asking too many questions was to tell her I'd ask you if we could all have dinner." She grimaced. "Minus Peter. I really don't know him very well at all."

"Can't say that I'm unhappy about that," Carlisle muttered, letting his irritation at the younger man slide off his back.

"Yeah." Bella ran a free hand through her hair, her posture and expression radiating a pinch of uncertainty. "She wants to get to know you. If you're... If you're sticking around."

He stopped short, his hands at her waist as he pulled her to stand in front of him. His heart beat fast because it was never not-scary to admit to these kinds of things. "I'm not going to tell you I know what I'm doing, because I don't. I _really_ don't," he said slowly, holding her gaze so she could see the sincerity behind his words. "But if I didn't want more of you, more _with_you, I would have left you alone."

Her smile made his entire world brighter, and he couldn't help but kiss her right there, his hand cupped to her face, his thumb stroking her cheek.

"Is that what you want?" he asked against her lips.

Even though she wound her arms around him, clinging, pushing up onto her toes to kiss him back, his stomach still twisted with anxiety that she would break his heart with her answer. Instead, she smiled against his mouth. "Yes. We'll figure it out. This time, we can figure it out."

It may have seemed strange. Only two years had passed since it was absolutely the right thing to let her go. Now, though, the world was different - they were different. Yes, she was still somewhat terrifyingly young. Yes, his life was still complicated, but two years ago, those challenges were insurmountable.

Now, with Bella in his arms, he felt like anything was possible.

* * *

**A/N: Many thanks to Barburella and jessypt for holding my hands... nay... DRAGGING MY ASS through this. **

**There will be an epilogue.**

**Merry New Year, everyone! Please be safe. **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: G'day again, my lovelies.**

**In all honesty, Carlisle has always been a fascinating character. I only wish he wasn't the ultimate father figure to me because I have enjoyed writing about him in so many ways. Just... GAH.**

**You know?**

**But I am proud of this little story, and I'm glad it seems like I've done justice to the man and the pairing.**

* * *

**_Five Years Later_**

There was a time when being on tour took up the majority of Carlisle's year. It had been quite some time since that was the case. This year, he'd only been gone for three months.

What a long three months it had been.

As she had the last three years, Bella had accompanied him for part of his tour. This year she'd only been able to come for the first week - the first two shows. She was a busy woman these days having finished graduate classes.

She was smart - his beautiful wife. Why she had chosen to stay after all the bullshit they'd been through at the beginning of their relationship, he would never know.

There had been a lot of media speculation about their relationship. The paparazzi could always be depended upon. They'd caught him on the campus that very first weekend and rumors flew. Being thrust into the face of the media in the middle of a scandal would have sent more tender souls running for the hills, but Bella was made of sterner stuff.

He was the luckiest man in the world that she'd stood at his side through the good and the bad. They'd married on a whim in Vegas, and she'd promptly threatened to divorce him a couple of weeks later when he sold the rights to one of his songs to Glee.

The house was dark when he returned home. It was the middle of the night, and he wasn't expected home until the next evening. He took a minute to appreciate his house, his home. After three months of hotel suites, even the entryway was inviting.

And instead of the placid hotel paintings, his walls were covered in tasteful decor, modern art, and pictures of his gorgeous family. As he climbed the stairs, he passed pictures of the first time he held Benjamin, knowing he was his son. The two year old looked painfully uncertain in that picture, but Carlisle kept it up to remind them both how far they'd come. The next photo was one of them, Benjamin's skinny arms wrapped around Carlisle's neck. It didn't matter that Benjamin wasn't a child of his body, that his skin was a different, pleasing olive tone. The two in the picture were father and son, their bond irrevocable.

Carlisle stopped in Benjamin's room first.

It was hard to believe his baby was a big boy of eight now. He was old enough that he'd actually come with Carlisle for the first three weeks of his tour.

With his family there, Carlisle could see how much his life had changed just by what he did before and after getting onstage. In his youth, concert days were spent surrounded by people fawning over him: girls, boys. And he didn't crave the attention so much as he craved the atmosphere. It was never not incredible to connect with another human being who had been moved by his music.

When he was tired of being surrounded by people who didn't know him but pretended to, he'd become rather reclusive. There was nothing lonelier than being alone in the middle of the crowd. It took him years to work through Esme's death, and when he had, he'd pulled away from almost everyone. As good as it had been for his craft, he had reached a very sad point without realizing where he was.

Until Bella.

Bella had marked the beginning of a complete change in his life that had only fully come to fruition when he came home to his son and his wife.

Sitting on the edge of Benjamin's bed, he leaned over him, clicking on the lamp. He ran his fingers through his son's silky black curly hair,

As strange as it sometimes sounded, Carlisle had always considered Benjamin to be Bella's child in a way. She'd been the catalyst that sent him down the road that led to him adopting the then-two-year-old boy.

Though it was easy to get lost in the magic that was what they felt for each other, as a father, Carlisle had known from the get go he had to do what was right for Benjamin. In reality, Bella was a twenty-year-old girl without many responsibilities; she could decide to wash her hands of everything in an instant. Despite the fact their relationship was made public pretty much from the beginning, they were very careful around Benjamin.

In the end, though, Carlisle needn't have worried. Bella adored Benjamin. She felt much the same way he did. Benjamin was a clever boy. Even when he was very little, he'd always made them laugh. He was a very independant child, which occasionally made Carlisle sad. Benjamin couldn't stand being cuddled or carried around, preferring instead to walk on his own two feet.

Carlisle had asked Bella once if she felt slighted having to share his attention from minute one of their relationship.

She'd smirked at him. "_Your twenties were full of challenges and adventures. You never regretted them, for the most part. My twenties have different challenges, but I won't regret my choices, especially since they mean I have you and Benjamin_."

With a grumble, Benjamin shifted, blinking into bleary consciousness. "Daddy?" he mumbled. "Are you real?"

Smiling gently, Carlisle brushed his fingertips down his son's cheek. "Go back to sleep. I'll be real when you wake up."

"Okay," Benjamin agreed, falling quickly back to sleep.

He watched his son sleep for a minute more before he reached over him, turning off the light.

Back in the hallway, Carlisle found his step was lighter. The closer he got to the master bedroom, the more his weariness was replaced by excitement. His skin was suddenly itching with the need to see his wife, to touch her.

Still, mindful that she was likely deeply asleep, he eased the door open carefully.

Bella looked so small curled in the middle of their big bed. When he looked at her, he always had the strangest sense, like he would do anything to protect her. Yet, he knew Bella was stronger than almost anyone he'd known. He admired this woman so very much.

He loved her. Every time he looked at her, he felt that emotion down to the marrow of his bones.

Walking softly, he crossed to the side of the bed and knelt on the floor. He laid his head on the pillow beside her, watching for long moments, re-memorizing the lines of her face. Her cheeks were ever so slightly fuller than the last time he saw her. Her lips were lightly pouted in her sleep.

She was so beautiful, it stole his breath.

What he knew he should do was carefully climb in bed beside her, making sure not to jostle her. He should absolutely not touch her, shouldn't run his fingers over her lips, her cheeks. He definitely shouldn't pull the blanket down off her shoulders so he could see the rest of her.

But then, Carlisle had had just enough willpower to walk away from her once. He'd used up his entire reserve when he let her go. He had none left to fight his urges, especially now that he was so curious about the changes to her body the last three months might have brought.

His eyes travelled down the length of her body, and he gasped when his gaze settled at her middle. His hands were on her in an instant, moving wondrously over the swell that had most definitely not been there when she left him in Phoenix.

"Carlisle?"

The scratchy quality of her voice had always been one of his favorite things, perhaps one of the only things that could have drawn his eyes away from the sight in from of him. He raised his head, his smile threatening to crack right through his cheeks.

"You're home?" She shifted, sitting up.

Rising up, he sat on the edge of the bed, cupping her cheek and kissing her soundly. "Couldn't take being away from you any longer," he murmured between kisses. "I got right on a plane after New York City."

She glanced over his shoulder at the clock. "That was five hours ago."

He tapped the tip of her nose. "You always have been good at math." He kissed her again, just thrilled that he could, and again pressed his hand to her belly, stroking. "When did this happen?"

Her eyes were still sleepy, but there was a mischievous glint in them as she smiled, putting her hand over his against her skin. "Well, about five months and two weeks ago, Alistair and I got a little tipsy-"

She was cut off when he kissed her again, this one hard and possessive. "Alistair, huh?"

"Oh." She giggled when his nose brushed against the skin of his neck. "That was you. I get all you old men mixed up sometimes."

Leaning back against the headboard, he wrapped one arm around her, gathering her close. His hand under her chin, he tilted her head up. "You must keep your husband on his toes, Mrs. Cullen."

She kissed him sweetly, humming against his lips. "Not so sure about that. I talk science to him, and he falls asleep. It's useful, I suppose, because otherwise he's kind of an insomniac..." She frowned at him, her expression hurt.

"That was one time!" he started to defend himself, but she laughed at him, and he had to laugh, too. He stroked her hair reverently. "I did miss you, Bella."

Her fingers played at the nape of his neck, brushing through his hair. Her smile was adoring, loving. "I'm glad you're home." Taking his hand, she put it back to her distended stomach, stroking his fingers as she pressed his palm beneath the nightshirt she wore. "To answer your question, this just decided to appear out of nowhere a few days ago."

Tilting his head to rest against hers, he explored the bump, his heart caught up in his throat. "This is so incredible, what you're doing here," he whispered, turning his head to kiss along her ear. "I love you."

She moved, pressing her body against his. Her hand was on his thigh as she found his lips. "I want you," she replied, her hand moving to unbutton his pants.

Carlisle didn't have to be told twice.

This was the best part about having to go away: coming home to this, to her. It was an amazing thing to be familiar with the small weight of her body as she straddled him, her fingers quick to unbutton his shirt and push it from his shoulders. The softness of her skin, her silky hair beneath his fingers... it was all what he dreamed about every day he was away.

Then there were the delightful new things he was quickly discovering.

When she was with him on tour, she'd still been queasy and tired. Her sex drive had returned when he was much too far away, though it had made for interesting Skype and phone-sex sessions. They'd talked at length about all the things they were going to do when this moment came.

Eager now, he pulled her nightshirt up and off. She'd teased him so often that her breasts were tender, left him aching as he watched her play with herself. He'd sworn payback, and he was quick to enact it. Lowering his head, he flicked his tongue over her nipple, palming her other breast with his hand.

Instantly, her nails dug into his back and she gasped.

He licked and suckled, squeezed, and groped until she was grinding her pelvis against him, speaking in a language that was made up of various curses and pieces of his name. The wanton tone of her words, her moans, was enough to make him hard. He thought she could easily bring him to orgasm, wriggling the way she was on top of him.

But no. He wanted to be inside her when he came.

He slid down until he was on his back. Getting the idea quickly, her hands were back at his pants, tugging. Together, they managed to rid themselves of the rest of their clothes in between needy kisses.

When she pulled back, he sat up, chasing her lips because he was so hungry for her. But she pushed him back down, her hands splayed on his chest. His cock was caught between his body and where she was slick and warm and inviting. He groaned. "Want you," he said breathlessly.

"Need you," she replied. She lifted her hips, and he guided himself inside her.

Home. He was home. This simple moment of connection, with her eyes soft and intense on his and his hand cupped over the life their coupling had sparked into being, was sweeter than any note, more aweing than any lyric.

He liked this position, loved being able to explore her body with his hands as he thrust up into her and she rocked her hips to the rhythm he set. There was a sense of urgency to their lovemaking this morning, a fervor born of too many days and weeks apart. Homecoming was always nice, like they were rediscovering each other, appreciating things they had taken for granted when they saw each other every day.

It seemed to him he had forgotten just how perfectly his hands fit against her waist. He could keep her steady and feel the way her body moved with his. He had a renewed sense of appreciation for how well she knew him, that she knew stroking his earlobes drove him crazy and tickling his sides lightly during sex made him moan.

He traced the pad of his finger over her full lips, sucking in a breath when she took him in her mouth, her eyes holding his gaze. His heart beat faster, his chest expanding in an emotion far too big for his body to hold.

He sat up because even being inside her was not enough. He wanted his body to engulf her. He wanted to feel her nipples against his chest and the hard swell of her belly against his skin.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, her tongue moving along his. When he folded his legs up, needing every part of him to be close to some part of her, his thrusts hit an increasingly frantic pace. She threw her head back, exhaling in a whining gust, and he moved his lips to her neck, nipping, sucking.

The way she cried his name, her tone begging in that single word, made him groan.

"Yes," she panted. "Please," she pleaded.

And when she contracted around him, her moan loud and fabulous against his ear, he was not far behind her.

Heads resting on each others shoulders, they swayed together for another minute more. Her pants were hot against his neck, her hands brushing the moisture from the sweat-damped skin of his back.

Slowly, he raised his head, humming softly to her - one of the many songs he'd written trying, failing in his opinion, to encapsulate the depth of the emotion he felt for her. But as inadequate as his words and music felt, they were what he had, and he sang quietly to her as he guided them both back down on the bed and wrapped her up in his arms.

He was just going to have to hope she could hear all the things he didn't know how to say, all the words to the spaces between notes.

**_~The End~_**

**Thank you: to barburella, to jessypt, and to all of you for your response. **


	7. Outtake

**A/N: So I've always said being my pre-reader is a thankless job. That goes double when I have to be talked off a ledge. And I felt bad. So jessypt got some extra Carlisle sex. I'm sure barburella wasn't upset by this. Now what am I gonna do about GinnyW?**

**Anyway, this takes place shortly after the last chapter and before the epilogue.**

* * *

"Where are you taking me, Alice?"

"None-ya," her best friend said obnoxiously. She tightened her grip on Bella's arm, drawing her forward.

"I'm serious. I'm so not in the mood." Bella knew she was whining, but she was feeling petulant. Normally, she couldn't have cared less about her birthday, but then this one was special. She was turning twenty-one.

And goddammit, after all the bullshit she'd been through in the last four months, she didn't think it was too much to ask for her boyfriend to be there to ply her with booze for the first time. The first time legally, anyway. She knew Alice would take care of her, but it was Carlisle she wanted.

When she'd started dating Carlisle Cullen - internationally known rockstar - Bella had known it wouldn't be easy. Nearly the second they'd stepped out of her dorm room after their first night together, before they even had a chance to figure out how they were going to work, there were cameras in their face. It didn't get easier sharing.

Alice kept trying to tell her anyone else would be jealous. It wasn't as though Carlisle had blown her off to have beers with his buddies. He'd been asked to perform for the President of the United States and several of his high-powered buddies.

"Nobody's boyfriend is this cool," she'd said, prompting a rather dirty look from Jasper.

And she loved him for all he was. She would never begrudge him the job he loved, that he excelled at.

Sometimes, though, it did suck. Hard.

"You'll feel better once we're there," Alice said, patting her on the back.

Bella resigned herself to at least try having fun. There was no point in pouting when her friend was only trying to-

"What the heck is going on?"

It had begun to occur to her where they were going - one of the small auditoriums on campus. Generally, Bella knew what was going on week to week on that stage. Usually, the stage was reserved for small plays and groups like the string quartet. Since she passed the space every Tuesday and Thursday on her way to her economics class, she tended to memorize that week's events. Nothing was on the docket today, and yet there was obviously something happening.

"Guess you'll just have to wait and see," Alice said in a sing-song voice, propelling her along.

Bella was taken aback when Alice flashed some paper at a security guard - since when did this particular auditorium need security? - and got two bracelets in return. They both had her name on it: Bella's 21st Bash!

"Alice!" Bella hissed, ducking close to her friend. "What did you do?!" She looked around again, noticing the people who had gotten passed security were all her friends, or at the very least, her acquaintances. "Did you rent this place out or something?"

"Or something."

They ducked inside, and someone pressed a drink into Bella's hand, wishing her a happy birthday.

"Omigod, Bella!" a girl Bella vaguely recognized as Jessica Stanley squealed near her ear, hugging her enthusiastically. They ran in the same circles, and she had always been nice to Bella. "I can't believe your-"

"Jessica!" Alice leapt forward, clapping her hand over the other girl's mouth. Her raven-haired friend glared, and Jessica looked sheepish.

"Whoops! Um. Anyway. Happy birthday!" Jessica waved her hand and darted into the auditorium before she could get in more trouble with Alice.

Before Bella could protest again, Jasper appeared, hugging her tight and kissing her cheek. Every other person stopped them to wish her a happy birthday. All the while, Alice kept them moving, and before Bella knew it, she was ushered to the front row. The roped off section indicated it was reserved, but the way Alice ignored it told Bella it was indeed reserved for them.

"Alice. Really, what are you doing?" she asked, tugging somewhat frantically at her friend's arm.

On the other side of Alice, Jasper gave her a comforting smile, looking entirely too amused.

But before she could start yelling, the lights went down.

Music played - one of Bella's favorite songs that wasn't Carlisle's - and she waited, her body tense. This could not be good. Not when a stage, a fair amount of people, and her bratty best friend were involved.

"Happy birthday, dearie," a gravely voice said in her ear.

Yelping, Bella swung in her seat. "Alistair?" she squeaked.

He chuckled. "In the flesh. Come on now, ducky." He proffered his hand. "Follow me."

"What are you doing here?" Bella's thoughts were racing as she put her hand in Alistair's and let him draw her up to her feet. "You should be with Carlisle."

His grin widened, and Bella realized belatedly he was leading her up the steps at the side of the stage. She froze. Getting behind her, Alistair gently pushed her forward.

Just as Carlisle appeared from behind the curtain, catching her up in his arms. The noise she made might have been his name or it might have been an excited, delighted squeal. Either way, she jumped, wrapping her legs around his waist and flinging her arms around his neck. She was oblivious to the hoots and hollers from her friends in the audience.

Beneath her, Bella felt Carlisle's chest rise and fall as he chuckled. "Surprise, sweetheart," he whispered against her ear before he set her down on a stool she hadn't even noticed was there.

The audience laughed when she kept her legs wrapped firmly around him, refusing to let go when he tried to pull away. Obliging, he came back, his hands on either side of her on the stool, and kissed her to the tune of the small crowd's cheers and whistles.

Reluctantly, she let him go after a few moments of this, her brain unfreezing enough to realize where she was and that everyone was watching them. And that Carlisle was dressed and made up in his rocker get-up.

Suddenly, she understood exactly what was going on.

Sure enough, Carlisle brushed the underside of her chin with a finger before he stepped away, clicking on his microphone to address the crowd.

The crowd agreed, they were all there to celebrate Bella's twenty-first birthday, and they sure didn't mind doing it with a private concert. That was how Bella found herself with the best seat in the house, watching her rocker boyfriend own the stage. He sang several of the songs she knew she'd inspired, his eyes landing frequently on her as he played, and his lips turning up into that smile she fell more in love with every day.

And fucking hell, it was all she could do not to jump him right there on that stage. He was so sexy. And hers. And she would be lying if she didn't want every single one of her screaming girlfriends to know it.

In between each song, one of her friends appeared on stage to give her a shot which she dutifully knocked back. So by the time he introduced a new song, a song whose title was simply her name, Bella was blissed-out buzzed.

It was a gorgeous song, and maybe the next day she would feel embarrassed for bursting into tears the way she did, but just then she was feeling no pain. She was happy and loved. As the song drew to a conclusion, he was on his knees in front of her, playing and singing only for her. She slid down off the stool, kneeling in front of him. Both her hands on his cheeks, she swallowed the last word of the song with her fervent kiss.

He ended the mini-concert by leading the audience in a stirring rendition of happy birthday, his eyes teasing as she blushed scarlet, and then tucked her under his arm as they walked off stage together.

No sooner were they out of sight of the crowd than they were all over each other. Bella found herself backed up against the wall, his body pressed into hers. She knocked off his wig so she could tangle her fingers in his hair. They kissed until they were breathless, and only when she was panting did she speak. "How did you do this? I thought you were in D.C."

His lips turned up. "And miss your birthday? I think not."

She kissed him again, softer this time. "I love you."

"I love _you_, baby. So much."

_**~0~**_

After the concert, the party relocated downtown to one of the swankiest hotels in Chicago where Carlisle had rented out the largest suite. There was food, entertainment, presents, and thirty of her closest friends.

Carlisle was endlessly patient, smiling and posing for pictures with all her friends who asked. He stuck by her side for the most part, his fingers stroking her back as they mingled.

It being her twenty-first, Bella got predictably trashed. How could she help it? Hadn't she wished for exactly this? For her boyfriend to be the one to ply her with alcohol and take care of her.

Bella had hardly noticed her eyelids were drooping until Carlisle slid away from her, off the couch. She protested, reaching for him, but he'd only stooped enough so she could wrap her arms around his neck. He straightened, Bella draped over his back, her legs around his waist and her head on his shoulder.

"Say goodnight, Bella," he prompted as he carried her away from her friends.

"Goodnight Bella," she mumbled drunkenly. She was only vaguely aware of her friends giggling at her, wishing her goodnight and happy birthday.

She grumbled again when Carlisle switched her around so he could lay her down on the soft bed. But her head lulled, her vision spinning when she tried to drag her eyes open. She groaned, complacent when he started to undress her.

When she tried to get her limbs to cooperate so she could get him naked too he chuckled, pushing her hands back. "Bella, you're about to pass out."

"Don't wanna," she argued. "Want you. Birthday nookie."

He leaned in - she felt the warmth of his body encroaching in her personal space - and pressed soft kisses across her cheek to her ear. "We have this suite all weekend, baby. There's plenty of time."

A thrill went down her spine, and she wanted very much to pull him down on top of her. She wanted him inside her. She wanted him surrounding her.

But she also wanted to sleep.

"Stay?" she asked.

"I'm all yours, beautiful girl."

She smiled, snuggling under the blankets. "Still want you naked," she warned.

He must have complied because when she felt the bed dip and he gathered her close, they were skin to skin.

Content, Bella let sleep take her.

_**~0~**_

The first time she woke up, she only did so long enough to ask where Benjamin was - safe at home with his aunt - and to tell Carlisle if he really wanted to please her, he would turn off the sun because it offended her. He coaxed her to drink something - everything tasted like ass so she had no idea what she drank - and to swallow down some aspirin. She complied, then promptly flung her arm over his chest, snuggled up against his side, and went back to sleep.

When she woke up again it was because there was something amazing happening to her nipples. There was tugging and licking and the slightest hint of teeth making her wake with a gasp. It was making her squirm, the pleasure quickly overriding the slight pounding of her brain trying to escape her skull.

One by one she regained control of her limbs. First her hands. Groping blindly, she ran her fingers up his back, tracing his familiar musculature. She tangled one hand in his hair, flexing her fist when he took her nipple between his teeth and tugged. He tugged, she pulled, and then his tongue would soothe the little love bite while her fingers relaxed in his hair.

When his hand began to travel down her body, moving from where he had cupped her breast, tickling the skin of her belly, she let her legs fall open. She ran the bottom of her foot over his calf, beginning to mumble his name as the power of speech slowly returned to her.

He played her just as skillfully as he would his guitar, knowing how to hold her, how to use his mouth as he moved two fingers in and out of her, using his thumb to stimulate her clit. He knew when to back off, switching his little nips to her neck and shoulder instead.

After he brought her to orgasm, Carlisle lay on his side, a little smirk playing at his lips as he waited for her to regain coherency.

"How's your head?" he asked.

Bella blinked. The last thing she was thinking about was her head. "What?" she asked intelligently.

His smile was patient. "I read that an orgasm is a great cure for a headache."

"I don't have a headache."

He brightened. "Then it worked!"

Giggling, she rolled onto her side, smacking his chest. "You're horrible."

He wrinkled his nose. "Good. Since you already think I'm horrible, I can tell you your breath stinks."

Bella glared, and then she grabbed his head, holding him still as she kissed him soundly.

_**~0~**_

It was almost night again before they finally rolled out of bed. One leisurely shower later - they probably didn't get very clean - they had ambled out to the little kitchenette.

Carlisle watched Bella out of the corner of his eye as he assembled their late breakfast. She was sitting on table just off to the side of the kitchenette, her legs crossed, rifling through one of the books she'd received for her birthday.

There was no mystery why this beautiful woman was his muse. When he watched her, talked to her, he knew he could write a thousand songs and they wouldn't be enough. How could a thousand songs ever hope to encapsulate the person she was, and what she meant to him.

He would sing until he was hoarse, and he wouldn't be able to even get beyond trying to explain how very lucky he was.

Their relationship, still young, hadn't been easy to that point. It was so very public, and not everyone understood them. It was maddening and sickening, the way the press and the public decided they knew exactly what was going on and what was best for him, for Bella. He'd had most of his life to get used to it, but she was a very private person. She was famous now too, in a way, and for no other reason than because she was in his bed.

But she'd rolled with every punch so far. She was lovely, passionate, and so smart.

Suddenly needy for her again, Carlisle clicked off the burners and strode toward her.

She gave a little squeal of surprise when he grabbed her sides. But the noise and any protest she might have given was drowned by his fervent kisses. She dropped her book, cupping his neck as she pressed her body against his.

He leaned forward, guiding her back onto the table, and she hummed, the sound vibrating against his lips. "What are you doing?" she asked breathlessly.

"I think I need you," he whispered, his voice gravelly as he hooked his fingers into the band of her panties. "And I'm not going to wait."

Pinned beneath him, her body vibrated as she shivered. She pushed up to capture his lips again, apparently fine with his plan. He pulled her up again just enough so he could pull her shirt up and off.

"I like this," he murmured, pressing kisses to her chin, to her neck, to her clavicle. "See, it gives me visual and tactile access to some of my favorite things." He cupped her breasts, kneading, rubbing over her nipples with his thumbs.

She bit her lip, muffling a moan. "This is why we work, you know. I'm more mature than my age suggests and you're still as bad as a thirteen-year-old boy." She lifted her foot, running it along his side and effecting a teasing tone. "Weee, boobies."

He leaned down and kissed her lips hard. As soon as she began to really get into the kiss, he pulled away, smirking when she pouted. "It's not my fault. Your boobies are fantastic."

She laughed at him and pulled him back to her to kiss him.

This was so nice, he reflected as he stroked her skin, piquing her arousal. It was nice to be so intimate with someone with whom he could giggle and joke during sex. Here she was, entirely exposed to him and teasing him for being a boob man.

She was just so natural and all the more beautiful because of it.

God, he loved her.

He told her so as he lined himself up with her body and slid inside her.

Every time, the moment they were joined just like this was so exquisite, his breath stuttered. Every moment in his past he'd spent lonely, he wished he could have known it was all worth it. He'd been waiting for her almost half his life.

Worth it, he thought as he began to move, watching the way her body rocked. What a perfect creature she was - from her perky little breasts, the lovely flush of her cheeks, to the little noises, the nonsensical words that fell from her parted lips. He loved the way her body bucked when he tickled the skin of her belly. He loved the way she looked at him - how her gaze penetrated him just as surely as he was buried deep in her.

There was nothing else in the world but this, them.

Feeling the need to consume her, his rhythm picked up. He threaded their fingers together, pinning her hands to the table on either side of her head.

"Carlisle," she breathed. Hearing his name in that little moan of a voice would never not drive him crazy. "Please. More."

He gave her more. He would have given her anything.

Slipping his hand between them, he rubbed her clit, bringing her to orgasm before he followed her.

When he'd had a moment to recover, he pulled her up, pulling her into a hug. He swayed them, so filled with tenderness and adoration, he was briefly overwhelmed. She leaned her head against his shoulder, her hands rubbing up and down his back.

With a sigh, he pulled back, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her like she was precious. And she was - so incredibly precious to him. "I love you, you know," he murmured.

"I know." She kissed his cheeks and the tip of his nose. "But you should feed us now." The glint in her eyes was mischievous. "You're going to need your strength if we're going to do that again."

He growled, kissing her hand as he pulled her off the table, setting her on her feet.

"Carlisle," she said as he stepped over to the stove again.

"Hmm?"

"I'm really glad you came home early."

He grinned at her. "Me too, sweetheart. Me too."

* * *

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed! Let me know.**


	8. Vignette

**A/N: *Shifty eyes* So.. at some point... I seem to have gotten over my Carlisle having a penis aversion. I was listening to music and this song kept coming up on shuffle and I'll be damned if I didn't think about my rocker Carlisle and his Bella. You know... of my own volition. Without prompting or begging or me trying to apologize for being an asshole.**

**Sofa King weird. WHO AM I?! I blame jessypt and barburella.**

**Anyway. This is a very short little vignette I thought I'd share with you since it insisted on being written.**

* * *

They'd both known their relationship wasn't going to be easy. Some nights, though, were harder than others.

Of course, _of course_, it had to be the night before he had to go away that a paparazzi surprised them. They always hurled the most hideous questions, trying to get a reaction. Last night, they'd gotten one.

Bella was one tough chick, but she wasn't invincible. The press knew every sordid detail of his past. Everyone had their share of days they would rather forget, but too many of Carlisle's were available in high colored glossy.

He didn't regret his life. He'd been sure to learn from each and every mistake he'd made. Still, it was difficult to when those mistakes were not only thrown back at him, but put in the very worst light possible.

As if that weren't bad enough, the pap had gone on to goad Bella, playing to her every insecurity. The media painted her one of two ways. Either she was a gold digging little twit or a doe-eyed, naive girl. Either way, she was small town trash and the pap had a number of theories as to what a little girl might have done to catch such a big fish.

He'd gotten what he wanted. Carlisle got right in his face, and in the morning, there would be pictures of him looking threatening. Who knew which way they would spin it.

"I know who you are, and I know who I am," Bella had told him the night before. "I love you, but I need some space tonight."

Now he was awake with the dawn and lonely in one of his mansion's many guest bedrooms.

It was such a frustrating thing. Because he was so high profile, he couldn't have a relationship without a million well meaning fans having an opinion about it. The problem was, Bella wasn't high profile. No one knew the first thing about her. They didn't know him as well as they thought, but Bella didn't come equipped with a fanbase.

As a result, she had to live with all of the negatives - the judgements and jealousy of her peers - without any of the glory.

All she got in return was him.

With nothing to do but stew all night, Carlisle found himself desperate to go to her, tell her how incredible she was. He'd written song after song trying to put it all down in words - everything the rest of the world didn't see. That was the curse of the artist, he felt. Sometimes, he saw a world no one else did, and he tried to communicate what he saw with his songs.

Bella was the only one who'd ever understood them so completely.

He could go to her with something new, something else for her, but there was so much in his head, he didn't know where to start.

Very early that morning, it occurred to him that he didn't have to have all the words. Maybe he was a rockstar in his own right, but he wasn't the only one.

Mentally, he began flipping through songs. When he found the right one - a soft, simple, lovely tune - he jumped out of bed, eager to make her happy again before he had to leave her.

It only took a few minutes to assemble what he needed: his acoustic guitar and a few hand picked flowers from the garden. Then he eased open the door to the master bedroom.

She looked so small, all alone in his big bed. Her expression, as she slept, was not peaceful, and the dried tear tracks on her cheek made his heart ache. Tenderly, he brushed her hair away from her eyes. She very nearly stirred, mumbling something nonsensical in her sleep as she turned her head to meet his palm. He smiled, feeling nothing but lucky that she was still here, still his.

Seating himself cross-legged at the foot of the bed, he pulled his guitar into his lap and began to pluck out the first few notes of The Plain White Tee's "Hey There Delilah".

It was a sweet song that perfectly encapsulated the beauty of what he'd found in her and the ache he felt when he was away.

She came awake slowly, blinking like a newborn kitten, her expression adorably perplexed at first. But as she came more conscious a soft smile spread across her face, and she lay back down, her head on her folded hands on the pillow, watching him, hearing what he was trying to tell her.

It was a good song for where they were at right then, though she smirked when he sang about how he might pay the bills with his guitar someday.

"By the time that we get through the world will never ever be the same, and you're to blame."

She sat upright then, scooting closer, and the song seemed to get all the more personal.

"Hey there, Delilah, you be good and don't you miss me. Two more years and you'll be done with school, and I'll be making history."

She was sitting right in front of him now, their knees touching. The look on her face - so passionate and full of love - was exactly what he felt in his heart. The world had shrunk again. There was just them, and what they felt for each other. Despite what all the voices clamoring around them tried to say, they knew the truth.

They were good together, and their lives, though not without problems, were better for having found each other.

He brought the song to a close and leaned in to kiss her. Without breaking that connection, he pushed his guitar to the side so he could pull her into his lap instead. She came willingly, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his body.

"I'm sorry," she whispered against his lips. "I wasted our night."

Cupping her face in his hands, he shook his head. "No," he murmured, kissing the tip of her nose. "It's okay to need to regroup sometimes." He stroked her hair back, his fingers trailing down her neck. "I know we'll never struggle to make ends meet, but that doesn't make this life easy."

For a few long moments, the merely cuddled, Bella's head on his shoulder and his resting against hers, reconnecting and reaffirming.

"There's still some time yet," she whispered in his ear. She leaned back, bringing him with her.

Still a little time before they had to remember the rest of the world existed, and they had other things to do.

And he was going to soak up every second he had with her, now and for the rest of his life.

* * *

**A/N: So there's that.**

**Just in case any of you are curious, I'm still writing the pirate E/B fic. I just took a little time off fic to finish my first novel. EEEEEE so excited.**


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